


how much love would make you whole

by sumomomochi



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Punk, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Body Modification, Dick Pics, Explicit Sexual Content, Genital Piercing, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Orgasms, Musicians, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Past Sexual Abuse, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Soft Kylux, Switching, Therapy, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi
Summary: Ben Organa-Solo (22, anxious) stupidly manages to fall for the frontman of his favourite local band, ArmitagefuckingHux (26, asshole). Fixations are nothing new for Ben; he knows what kind of shit his brain likes to pull and how to handle it. At least being into The First Order gives him something to focus on. He just didn't expect to run into Armitage at a fuckingcharity dinnerof all places, their politician parents pulling them together by accident. He especially didn't expect Armitage to show interest in him, or for that interest to quickly become a completeclusterfuck. Between Ben's shitty brain and Armitage's shitty father, he's not sure this is going to end well for either of them.





	1. ooh baby im a fool for you

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is probably the only fic ive ever written where you actually need to mind the tags. while this fic is Soft™ ben still has some pretty serious issues with mental illness as a result of past childhood sexual assault. theres pretty frank references to that and also of self harm so if ur sensitive to that proceed w caution. if theres anything ur worried about showing up, send me a message on [tumblr](http://sumomomochi.tumblr.com/) and ill give u the deets.
> 
> also brendol hux is a dick.
> 
> mega thanks to cherrymilkshake for betaing and unapologeticallydorky for listening to me ramble about this fic for two fucking years. thanks to both of them for supplying some great lines that i absolutely used and thanks to ktula for providing some feedback that had me adding a whole extra chapter. updates will be every other friday
> 
> and now our feature presentation

The First Order is a good band. In Ben’s opinion, they're a great band, his favourite, despite being local nobodies who only play in shitty bars across the city. They've got _this sound_ — a perfect balance between melodic and gritty, almost classical in composition. Ben can tell they have traditional music knowledge, that they didn't just start with what they play now and made shit up as they went along.

And they've got such stage presence, moving in time with their music like it's a part of their very souls. It probably helps that they're all giants. Ben only ever watches from the back of bars, where there are tables to sit at after his long shift at work, but even then, he can tell the lead and bassist are easily as tall as him, and Ben is not a small man. The bassist is built like a tank, like Ben is, tall and broad and muscled, while the lead is _long_ , thin and lanky and lean, with fiery red hair that flops into one eye.

Ben may have the hots for both of them. It doesn't help that they've got _accents_ , clipped and British and too hot to be fair. 

Their drummer is the only one Ben’s ever talked to. He’s the one who mans the merch table after they play, helped by a revolving door of venue staff. He’s not as tall as the other two and he always gives Ben a warm smile when he buys something. Ben imagines the other two members of the band are cold, judging by the way they never mingle, but that just makes them more attractive. 

\---

“He's here again,” Armitage says as he and Phasma plug in their instruments. She perks up, looking out over the crowded bar, and Armitage smacks her lightly in the arm. “Don't _look_ for him, jesus.”

Phasma grins. “You should just _talk_ to him.”

“I'm not going to go _talk_ to our stalker.”

“Dopheld says he's nice.”

“Mitaka has also said he's bought _three_ of the same t-shirt.”

“So he blows his money on stupid shit. That just helps us.” Her grin turns wicked. “Maybe you could finally get laid.”

Armitage balks and Phasma laughs, nudging him with her knuckles.

“What's the point of being a rock star if you don't fuck your groupies?” she asks. Armitage just glares at her and steps toward the center of the stage to start tonight's show. He very definitely does not keep flicking his eyes over to where their stalker sits at a table by the bar, slouched over with his chin resting on his hand.

Later, as they pack Phasma’s van with their gear, she says, “I still say you should talk to him if you like him so much.”

“I don't _like_ him!”

“You're the only one who ever notices him.”

“How do you _not_ notice him? He's massive! Easily as tall as you and built like a brick shithouse!”

Phasma snorts. “So you do like him.”

Armitage sighs and runs his hands through his hair. Yes, their stalker _is_ his type, tall and broad and probably capable of bench pressing him, but he’s also at _every single one of their shows_ and that is _weird_. He tells Phasma as much and she laughs.

“Maybe he has a crush,” she teases. Armitage scowls. 

“Yes, maybe. On _you_ ,” he says, jabbing her in the shoulder with one pointer finger, “Straight people _are_ the majority.”

“Armitage, I am seven feet tall in these shoes. No man is going to have a crush on me when I look like I could crush _him_.”

“Maybe he’s into that, you don't know him.”

Phasma laughs again and slams the back door of the van.

“Neither do you,” she says, “Maybe he wants _you_ to crush him.”

Armitage sighs again, telling her, “You're impossible.”

“You wouldn't love me if I wasn't.”

“No, but my life would be a hell of a lot easier,” he says, digging in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. She punches him in the shoulder as he fishes one out, her laughter echoing in the alley.

“Dick,” she says, grinning fondly.

“You wouldn't love me if I wasn't.”

\---

Armitage isn’t quite sure if he’s seeing who he thinks he sees. The man looks subtly off in ways he can’t quite place, but there’s no mistaking that awkward hunch. After all, how many six foot plus men with long dark hair and horrible posture are there in this city?

As Armitage thinks this, Senator Organa lightly backhands the man in the chest and says something. Armitage is too far away to make it out, but the man straightens, looking sheepish. Not her bodyguard then. Not her date either—it’s well known that Organa is married to a man with a blue collar job; she campaigned on it.

But it _can't_ be their stalker. The world is not small enough for the man who goes to every one of his band’s shows to also end up at the charity dinner his father has forced him to go to. It’s _not_.

It _is_ , Hux realizes as he casually wanders closer and the man catches sight of him. Hux watches as recognition dawns on his face, brightening in surprise before the _oh shit_ of panic settles. 

_Fuck_. Armitage is nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this, to deal with a rabid fan of his other life accosting him where his father’s friends and colleagues could see. He’s here to play the dutiful son, the college student working on his masters, the good little straight boy his father so wants him to be.

Thankfully, their stalker turns back towards the conversation Senator Organa is having with another politician, busying himself with the drink in his hand, big ears pink. Armitage brushes by, headed purposefully towards the bar.

The rest of the night, Armitage finds his eyes constantly drawn back to the man. He's easily one of the tallest in the room, towering over Organa as he follows her from conversation to conversation, but that's not it. Armitage can feel his eyes on him, keeps catching him staring, even though he never approaches. He just looks away every time he's caught, ears pink.

It's that damn blush that has Armitage finally approach him, following as he leaves Organa’s side for the bathroom.

“You,” Armitage says, brandishing his finger at their stalker like it's a weapon in the short hallway between the ballroom and the bathrooms. He realizes with dawning horror that, maybe, he's now _too_ drunk for this, warm and overconfident.

Their stalker looks confused as he turns, hands up in surrender as his blush darkens. Metal glints in multiple places across his narrow face. He’s exactly what Armitage shouldn't want.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Armitage snaps, accusatory. 

The man sucks on his bottom lip, running his teeth along the rings there, then says slowly, “Going to the bathroom. What are _you_ doing here?”

“I— ” Armitage starts, then stops, then starts again, “I’m here with my father.”

“And I'm here with my mom.”

Oh, _that's_ unexpected. How had Organa given birth to a child so much taller than herself? Even Armitage has to look up at him, though just slightly.

He narrows his eyes, dark brows drawing together, and asks, almost coldly, “Are you done?”

This is not how Armitage thought this would go. There should be fawning. There should be awkward stammering, more blushing, maybe a request for an autograph or a picture. Instead, their stalker crosses his arms over his broad chest and _glares_. 

Armitage is entirely too drunk for this. Instead of turning to leave like he should, he jabs his finger at their stalker again and asks, “You're at every one of our shows. _Why_?”

“Maybe,” he says slowly, like Armitage is stupid, “you're my favourite band.”

All Armitage can think of to reply to that is a small, “Oh.” He really did not think this through. 

The other man rolls his eyes and turns back towards the bathroom. He barely takes a step before Armitage calls, “Wait!” without thinking. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at Armitage.

“What's your name?”

He smirks. “Ben.”

 _Ben_. Armitage rolls the name on his tongue as he watches the man walk away. It's normal, pedestrian; it doesn't quite fit with the hulking, studded mass that Hux always sees at his shows, nor with the jackass with too many piercings wearing fucking _Louboutins_.

(There's no way for Armitage to have missed that signature flash of red on the soles of Ben’s feet, or how he matched it to his tie and the quarter sized plugs in his ears. He is impeccably dressed, better than Armitage is, despite how modified he is, and Hux has no idea _how_.)

Armitage turns back to the ballroom and pulls out his phone.

 **General Hux**  
You'll be happy to know I’ve talked to our stalker.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Wtf  
How?

 **General Hux**  
He is at the charity dinner my father forced me to go to.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Again, wtf, how?

 **General Hux**  
He is, apparently, Senator Organa’s son.

 **Captain Phasma**  
W t f

 **General Hux**  
Don't you have anything else to say?

 **Captain Phasma**  
No, because seriously, wtf  
What did you even say to him?

 **General Hux**  
Garbage, mostly. I don't know what I was thinking. I may be a bit drunk.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Jesus, Armitage, what did you do?

 **General Hux**  
I made a complete fool of myself, is what. 

**Captain Phasma**  
You were supposed to flirt

 **General Hux**  
That absolutely did not happen, which is unfortunate because he is very attractive up close, in an odd way.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Orly

 **General Hux**  
Yes, really. I wish I could blame that for why I stuck my foot in my mouth.

 **Captain Phasma**  
It's no surprise  
You are tactless when drunk

 **General Hux**  
Thanks.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You still haven't told me what you said

 **General Hux**  
I asked him why he's at all our shows and what his name is.

 **Captain Phasma**  
That's innocuous enough

 **General Hux**  
I was not very nice about it.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Lol  
What did he say?

 **General Hux**  
We are, apparently, his favourite band.

 **Captain Phasma**  
That's nice  
And?

 **General Hux**  
His name is Ben and he's an asshole. One who has a well tailored suit and a pair of fucking Louboutins.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Holy shit you are completely smitten

 **General Hux**  
No I'm not.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Face it, he's everything you like in a man, Tidge  
How many piercings did you see?

 **General Hux**  
He is not. And I didn't count. 

**Captain Phasma**  
Suuuure you didn't  
Bet you can give an estimate

 **General Hux**  
Like you're going to search him out to verify.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You know he's going to be at our show next month

 **General Hux**  
Ugh, don't remind me.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You're looking forward to seeing him there  
You want to compare the tailored suit and Louboutins to whatever punk garbage he wears to our shows  
More importantly, you want to undress him

 **General Hux**  
Phasma, quit fantasizing about someone FOR me.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Someone has to do it  
;)

\---

 **big bad ben**  
Guess who i met at this stupid dinner mom made me go to.  
The lead for the first order.

 **Rey**  
don’t you have anyone else you can tell this to?

 **big bad ben**  
Nope.

 **Rey**  
because i Do Not Care

 **big bad ben**  
It's one of my many personal failings.

 **Rey**  
sigh  
fine, what was he doing there

 **big bad ben**  
His dad's a politician too apparently.

 **Rey**  
riveting

 **big bad ben**  
Fuck you don't rain on my parade.

 **Rey**  
sorry, ben, was your husband everything you thought he'd be?

 **big bad ben**  
He was exactly how i thought he'd be.  
Only fiery instead of aloof.

 **Rey**  
so, he was mean to you

 **big bad ben**  
Yup.

 **Rey**  
SIGH  
only you would like that

 **big bad ben**  
What can i say?  
He was even hotter up close.

\---

Armitage can't get Ben out of his mind. He wasn't at all what Armitage expected, wasn't what he expected to see at that damn charity dinner. Ben looked so out of place with his long hair tied back in a braid and his piercings, even wearing a well tailored suit. He looked awkward and uncomfortable shadowing his mother, but he was confident and _cocky_ when Armitage, a member of his professed favourite band, drunkenly accosted him.

Armitage is fascinated. 

Not just because Ben is utterly his type physically. His behaviour is contradictory. He can't be both confident in the face of Armitage and his accusatory questions, and awkward around the politicians he was no doubt raised around. It should be the opposite. It should be one or the other. Ben doesn't make any sense.

Phasma is increasingly amused at his frustration, telling him to find Ben after their next show and _properly flirt this time_ , but that's not until the middle of next month and that is far too long to wait. Armitage would drive Phasma up the wall well before then.

Almost a week to the day after the charity dinner, Armitage charms his father’s secretary into giving him the personal number for Organa’s office. He waits two more days before calling, unsure of what to say, unsure if he even wants to go through with his plan. He doesn't have class today so, in the end, he takes a long pull from the bottle of whiskey in his freezer and dials the number.

It rings two times before the other end is picked up and a smooth, friendly voice says, “Leia Organa’s office, this is Poe, what can I do for ya?”

Armitage did not think this through.

“Ah,” he starts, because he has to say _something_ , “I’m actually calling about Senator Organa’s son.”

Organa’s secretary sighs, “What's he done this time?”

“Piqued my interest,” Armitage says without thinking. Poe laughs and Armitage runs his free hand through his hair. He _really_ did not think this through. He should have just waited until their next show, like a _reasonable_ person.

“Alright,” says Poe, humour obvious in his voice, “Let me get your name and number and I’ll see what I can do.”

Armitage rattles off the requested information, surprised that this actually _worked_. He had heard that Organa has a habit of asking about the dating status of other politicians’ children, stating that her own son is single, but he wasn't sure if she actually aims to play matchmaker.

And isn't it interesting how Poe didn't even pause at the idea of a man being interested in the Senator's son?

\---

 **General Hux**  
I did it. I called Organa’s office.

 **Captain Phasma**  
And?

 **General Hux**  
Her secretary was not at all surprised. Either this happens a lot or Organa really does try to secure dates for her son.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Given the fact that he’s not a goody-goody, this probably does not happen a lot  
The children of politicians are pretty much all stuck up assholes

 **General Hux**  
Thanks.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Hey, I said “pretty much”  
You're an asshole, sure, but you're not that stuck up

 **General Hux**  
Thanks.

 **Captain Phasma**  
So what are you going to do?

 **General Hux**  
Wait. It's all I can do at this point. Either he contacts me or I’ll see him at our next show.

 **Captain Phasma**  
And you're hoping he’ll contact you

 **General Hux**  
Of course. He's interesting. I want to solve this puzzle as soon as I can.

 **Captain Phasma**  
“Solve his puzzle”, sure  
If you say so ;)

 

\---

A few days later, Armitage gets a text from an unknown number. It takes a moment for him to parse what it says through the emojis, but he finds himself invited to brunch directly from Senator Organa. He accepts and they set a date.

Which somehow manages to sneak up on Armitage. He intends to make a better impression this time, so he dresses the part of The Good Son: slacks and a button down, no tie to give an air of casual nonchalance, the top button of his shirt undone to offer a peek at the dip of his collar bone. He slicks his hair back, flips his retainer up, and surveys himself.

He looks good; cleancut and neat, ready for brunch with a senator. His father would be proud, if only Armitage hadn't arranged this to get a better look at a six foot tall wall of pierced muscle.

\---

The house Armitage parks outside of is not what he expects. The whole neighborhood is odd, neither the old houses of the rich who want history or the new construction of those who want opulence. It’s firmly middle class, split levels with two car garages, all built probably twenty years ago.

And it's a _house_ the address Armitage typed into his GPS lead to; the Organa home, not a restaurant like he assumed. He wonders if this is just what Senator Organa _does_ or if he's the first to show interest in her son.

He rings the doorbell precisely on time and it’s opened by Leia Organa herself.

“Armitage, hello!” she says, smiling brightly. She’s barefoot, in jeans and a jumper. Armitage somehow feels overdressed. She adds, “So glad you could make it!” and Armitage can practically taste the Good Hostess that's been instilled in her through a life of politics.

“Thank you for having me,” he says. He knows this dance. He's _good_ at this, at faking nice no matter what. It’s so easy to fall into his Good Son persona.

Organa holds the door open and gestures him in. The inside of her house is just as unexpected as the outside. It's _homey_ , a bench and a collection of shoes in the entryway, a wall of framed photos lining the hallway splitting off the house into two separate sections, a coat rack behind the door loaded down with jackets and scarves. Hux recognizes the studded leather monstrosity Ben usually wears to his shows. It's _real_ and _there_ and Armitage has no idea what he's even doing intruding on their life like this.

He toes off his shoes and leaves them neatly next to the heavy black Doc Martens haphazardly piled by the bench.

“Ben’s not awake yet,” Organa calls from the left. Hux follows her voice and finds an open plan living area, kitchen and dining room and living room blending together seamlessly. She’s standing at the island counter dominating half the room, perfectly poised in her perfect house. “He should be up soon though. Would you like coffee? Tea?” Her smile turns a little sharp, teasing almost. “A mimosa? It is brunch after all.”

“Coffee is fine, please.”

He’s somehow stunned that Senator fucking Organa is making him coffee in her own kitchen. She acts as if this is normal for her, but it _can’t_ be. There's no way she regularly makes coffee for colleagues’ children interested physically in her son. Ben is the antithesis of everything Armitage is supposed to be. He can't imagine his peers in his place.

Organa slides a full mug over to him and says, “There's creamer in the fridge.”

Her familiarity is baffling. Armitage can't decide if she's trying to put him at ease or if she's trying to make him uncomfortable.

She circles the island and sits on one of the stools lining the other side, smiling at him.

“Come sit,” she says. He does and she launches into the usual 'get to know you' questions he's often asked by his father’s peers.

After a good ten minutes of this, Organa surprises him by saying, “You know, you don't look like the sort of person to be interested in my Ben.”

Armitage grins, knowing exactly what she means. Ben is very visibly alternative and Armitage works hard to appear to be as normal and bland as possible in this sort of situation, exactly how his father wants him to represent their family. He sticks his pinky up his nose, flips down his retainer, and asks, “Better?”

She crows with delighted laughter and says, “Much.” Then she smiles wickedly and says, “At one point, I did ask Brendol about you. He said you weren’t—” she air quotes “— _like that_.”

Armitage snorts, both at her apparent attempts at matchmaking and his father insisting on his nonexistent heterosexuality. Given the casualness of her comment, there's no way Ben’s not some sort of queer, and she seems perfectly content with this, so he has no qualms with telling her, “I promise, Senator, I am absolutely _like that_.”

Behind Organa, a head of messy black hair pops up over the railing for the stairs leading to the basement, quickly followed by a nude torso. Armitage knows he’s staring, but Ben hasn’t looked over in their direction yet, rubbing the sleep out of one eye as he shuffles up the stairs. Organa follows Armitage’s gaze, looking over her shoulder to find her son at the top of the stairs.

“Ben!” she calls. “Finally!”

Ben looks over, half turned towards the kitchen. He has _tattoos_ , four that Armitage can count, one of which is a very familiar logo over his heart. He has _abs_ , his body entirely solid muscle without a single iota of spare fat. He’s wearing just a pair of pyjama pants slung low on his hips in such a way that Armitage is sure means he’s not wearing anything underneath them. He is delicious.

In the four second span of time it took for Ben to turn at his mother’s voice, register that she was not alone, and turn back towards the stairs to return to his room, Armitage realizes he is absolutely fucked. Ben is too attractive for his own good. Armitage can’t help the incredible _want_ he feels for this man.

Armitage is _fucked_.

Ben takes two quick steps down the stairs before his mother says, “Oh no you don’t,” and slides off her stool, striding over to her son. “You’re going to have brunch with us, get up here.”

Ben pauses, that blush that drew Armitage in to begin with back on his face. He practically whines, voice low in effort to keep Armitage from overhearing, “Mom! At least let me get dressed, jeeze.”

Armitage can’t help the way his lips quirk up as Organa gives Ben a long look.

“Okay,” she says, “Hurry up. If you’re not back by the time the waffle maker is warmed up, I’m dragging you up here by your hair.”

“Jesus, mom. I’ll be right back, fuck.”

Organa laughs, “Language,” like it’s a joke as Ben stomps down the stairs. She comes back to the kitchen and starts pulling things out of the fridge. Armitage is faintly surprised at the audacity Ben has to say “fuck” in front of his mother, _to_ his mother. Armitage’s father would be _extremely disappointed_ if Armitage dared to curse in front of him. But then, Armitage’s father would be extremely disappointed in Armitage for a lot of things Organa seems to be perfectly fine with.

Ben is back at the top of the stairs not long after Organa plugs in the waffle maker. He is, sadly, now wearing a thermal and jeans, though still barefoot, with his long hair pulled back into a sloppy bun at the base of his skull. Armitage is still fucked; Ben is still painfully attractive up close, sitting better in his own skin in a way he definitely wasn’t at the charity dinner. It’s infinitely appealing. 

Ben sits on the stool his mother had vacated, right next to Armitage. He doesn’t fuck around, staring directly at Armitage, brows drawn in and eyes intense.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice once again pitched low, just for Armitage’s ears. Armitage is sure his mother is able to overhear them at the other end of the island, but she seems content to ignore them.

“I’m here for breakfast,” Armitage says. “What does it look like?”

Ben narrows his eyes. “It looks like you’re stalking me.”

“ _You’re_ the one who bothers me almost every time I’m out in public. I thought I’d repay the favour.”

“I go to your band’s _shows_ , which you hold in _public places_ ,” Ben says, scowling. “This is _my house_.”

What can Armitage say to that? Surely not the truth; that he couldn't wait three weeks to approach Ben at a bar, like a _normal_ person. Suddenly, it hits Armitage how completely _absurd_ this situation is. He has most definitely strong-armed Ben into interacting with him. It may have been sanctioned and in part facilitated by Ben’s mother, but that doesn't keep it from being any less weird. Armitage gets no further than nervously wetting his lips in anticipation of defending his stupidity before Ben continues with, “I didn't even know who exactly you _were_ until three weeks ago!”

Organa saves him by asking, “What would you like on your waffles, Armitage?”

Ben snorts and finally turns his intense gaze on something else. Armitage hadn't realized how much it had made him itch, being the subject of that stare up close.

“Oh, um—” he starts, dumbfounded, before she cuts him off.

“We have regular maple syrup, blueberry syrup, and Ben’s favourite: strawberries and whipped cream.”

That is fucking adorable. Armitage can't help but look over at Ben, watching him drag big hands down his face in frustration, the shell of his ears tinged red. Organa smiles serenely as her son suffers his embarrassment while Armitage very pointedly does not think of other ways to have strawberries and whipped cream.

“Regular maple syrup is fine, please,” Armitage says neutrally, like he's not thinking of licking whipped cream off her son’s hard stomach. From the smile she gives him, she knows anyway, but then, she seems to have orchestrated this whole morning to ensure that Armitage got a good eyeful of Ben shirtless.

Armitage is handed a plate of waffles first, a glass bottle of maple syrup set on the bar in front of him as well. He thanks Organa but hesitates to eat, instinctively waiting for his host to be served, but she makes a shooing motion at him and says, “Go on, eat, that's what you're here for,” so he does.

Beside him, Ben slouches over, elbows on the counter, and watches his mother pour more batter into the waffle maker. He’s still pink around the edges. It is entirely endearing.

Armitage needs to figure out how to deal with this problem he's acquired. Ben is no longer just his band’s stalker; he’s Armitage’s peer as a politician’s child _and_ a peer in the other life Armitage has made for himself, by himself. Not only that, up close, Ben is too fucking attractive for his own good. Part of Armitage wants to devour him, but a larger, saner part knows that's a dangerous path to go down.

Organa applies the finishing touch to Ben's waffles—entirely way too much whipped cream— and hands him his plate. He takes it and, without a word, stands to make his way over to the breakfast nook in the corner. Armitage hesitates to follow until Organa gives him a knowing look and picks up her own coffee. He follows her over to the booth with his plate in one hand and coffee in the other and slides in across from them.

Ben plows through his waffles as Organa once again leads Armitage through the standard how is school going conversation. Armitage tries very hard not to stare at Ben, at his full lips, his large hands. He's not sure how well he's managing. Organa, for her part, seems content having her son be there only as eye candy, not bothering to seek his input past his steady inhalation of food.

Once he's done, he prods his mother out of the way. Armitage can't help but look over at him, watching as he licks leftover whipped cream from the corner of his full mouth. Armitage very nearly loses track of what Organa is saying while she never misses a beat in their conversation, deftly moving to let her son out of the booth. 

Having Ben across the kitchen making a cup of coffee is a welcome reprieve. Armitage can still see him out of the corner of his eye, but he's not staring Armitage down at close range.

Then, of course, he reaches towards the ceiling, hands clasped together, arching his back as he stretches. Ben's positioned _just so_ , the coffee maker in the perfect spot for Armitage to catch sight of the way his shirt rides up to expose his hard stomach. Armitage swallows and glances down at his watch to keep from staring.

It's ten to one. He has class at two. He has cause to make his escape so he doesn't have to continue trying to keep his eyes off Ben.

He politely interjects that he needs to leave and Organa is all smiles as she says, “Of course; you did mention that you have class today.” Then, she calls to her son, “Ben! Please see Armitage out; he has to get going.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben says, sounding resigned. He doesn't look at Armitage as Armitage stands and thanks Organa for brunch and her time.

“No, thank _you_ ,” she says, eyes twinkling. She _absolutely_ knows the sort of things Armitage as been fighting not to think about her son all morning, for _weeks_ , since that stupid charity dinner where Ben was awkward in in a well-tailored suit and Louboutins. Armitage shakes her hand and lets himself be ushered towards the front door.

Ben meets him at the other end of the island and walks him the rest of the way to the foyer. As Armitage sits on the bench to retie his shoes, Ben casually asks, “Wanna go get drinks sometime? Away from my mom's meddling?”

Armitage pauses to look up at him. Ben fidgets and seems to want to look anywhere but at him. What happened to Ben being reluctant to interact with Armitage? What happened to the sharp stares and sharper words? Ben _finally_ acts like he should around Armitage, like Armitage is someone he idolizes, the lead for his _favourite band_ , and it comes when Armitage no longer expects it.

Armitage is _fascinated_. Ben doesn't make _any sense_.

Of course Hux agrees and gives Ben his number. How could he not?


	2. theres this tune i found and it makes me think of you somehow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my fic where i couldnt do slow burn if i tried. have some porn. and some pain. i did warn u

**General Hux**  
Going over to the Organas’ for brunch was a mistake.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You don't say  
How so?

 **General Hux**  
First off, Senator Organa is much more devious than I expected. She knew that I think he's attractive and orchestrated the whole morning to flaunt just how attractive he is.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Lol

 **General Hux**  
You don't understand. She knowingly invited me over at a time before he usually wakes up. He came out of his room in just pyjama pants. JUST pyjama pants; no shirt, no underwear, just one thin layer of cotton hiding his probably glorious cock.  
He was shirtless and he is VERY well defined. He has abs, Phasma, and the v.

 **Captain Phasma**  
And we all know what a sucker you are for The V

 **General Hux**  
On top of the hair and the piercings and the fucking tattoos - he has TATTOOS too; four that I saw, one of which is our fucking band logo over his heart.  
Ha ha, very funny.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Hey, it's not my fault your type is “bodybuilder”

 **General Hux**  
I like built men, not bodybuilders. Strong, not excessive.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Same diff

 **General Hux**  
Hardly. Besides, while Ben is cut, he's more strongman than bodybuilder. He’s built a lot like you, just harder.

 **Captain Phasma**  
So good to know you’d lust after me if you were straight

 **General Hux**  
Face it, if I were heterosexual, we’d already be married and my horrible father would be happy.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Lol  
Anyway, you were waxing poetic  
About his tattoos, specifically

 **General Hux**  
Yes, his tattoos. And his piercings. He has quite a few.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Eloquent

 **General Hux**  
Shut up.

 **Captain Phasma**  
;)  
Anyways, you are so desperate to fuck his brains out  
Told you so

 **General Hux**  
Ugh, don't even start.

 **Captain Phasma**  
But you are

 **General Hux**  
Yes, fine, I'll admit it. I would absolutely love to fuck him, but it's not going to happen. He barely tolerated me.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You were kind of an asshole to him  
Then you asked his mother to invite you over

 **General Hux**  
That's not entirely true. He was very cold to me up until the end, where he asked me out for drinks.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Oh  
Well then  
What did you say?

 **General Hux**  
I said yes.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Of course  
I'm so proud of you, Tidge

\---

 **big bad ben**  
You will not fucking believe what i woke up to.

 **Rey**  
if it has anything to do with that stupid band you like, im leaving

 **big bad ben**  
Armitage fucking hux, lead for the first order, came over for breakfast

 **Rey**  
IM LEAVING

 **big bad ben**  
Fuck you.  
He was dressed all posh but he has a septum piercing it was incredible.

 **Rey**  
dude, i dont want to hear about your hard on for armchair hugs, or whatever

 **big bad ben**  
Well too bad.  
I drive you to the mall with finn all the time.  
If i have to suffer through the two of you being gross you get to suffer through my hard on for armitage fucking hux.

 **Rey**  
ugh, fine

 **big bad ben**  
Guess what else.

 **Rey**  
what

 **big bad ben**  
He agreed to go out for drinks.  
He was eyefucking me the entire time he was over so i asked him out on a date and he said yes.

 **Rey**  
gross

 **big bad ben**  
Fuck you.

\---

It's been three days. Three days since Ben's meddling mother had Armitage fucking Hux over for breakfast. Three days since he saw Ben shirtless and eyefucked Ben within an inch of his life. Three days since Ben asked him out on a proper date and got a yes.

Ben has spent those three days staring at the new contact in his phone. At first he was playing it cool by not texting Armitage immediately. He didn't want to seem too eager. Then he agonized over the limbo of too early/too late, and now his nervousness stalls his hand even longer.

It's _stupid_ ; Armitage is definitely interested in him, even just physically. At the very least, he'll get to talk with one of his favourite musicians and maybe even fuck him, a one night stand that he'll get to brag about for ages. It'll be great. He'll be out of his comfort zone, talking with people other than his family and his coworkers for once. He even arguably made the first move. His therapist will be proud.

So why can't he just fucking text Armitage?

\---

It takes another day and approximately three million deleted messages before Ben finally texts Armitage.

 **Unknown Number**  
Hey its ben.  
Did you still want to get drinks?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Yes, that sounds fine. When and where?

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Im off at nine most nights so whatevers good for you.  
There are a couple of good bars by where i work but i dont mind meeting you somewhere else.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
That doesn't answer the question.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Fuck you im trying to be accommodating.

\---

 **General Hux**  
What is it about our stalker that makes me put my foot in my mouth?

 **Captain Phasma**  
You want to fuck him is what

 **General Hux**  
Ugh.

 **Captain Phasma**  
What did you do this time?

 **General Hux**  
He texted to confirm drinks, I asked when and where, he left it up to me, and I told him that didn't answer the question.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Well, it didn't

 **General Hux**  
Yes, but he was trying to be accommodating. He told me what his schedule is like.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Oh, Tidge, you really are awful at this

 **General Hux**  
Thank you, I'm well aware.

 **Captain Phasma**  
This is where you go sorry I'm used to my father being an overbearing ass and making all the decisions for me

 **General Hux**  
Fuck you.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Well, it's true

 **General Hux**  
Maybe so, but it's a little heavy for a veritable stranger, don't you think?

 **Captain Phasma**  
Fair enough  
Still, apologize and meet him halfway

\---

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Sorry. I appreciate that. How about I meet you at a bar of your choice after you get off on a Thursday.

\---

 **General Hux**  
I apologized and he hasn't responded.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Give it a minute, love

 **General Hux**  
I have. It's been over an hour.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Oh, Tidge, you've talked to him all of twice and you're already so smitten

 **General Hux**  
Fuck you.

 **Captain Phasma**  
;)

 **General Hux**  
Oh, he's replied.

\---

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Yeah, that sounds fine.  
Theres a bar called jjs right by my work.  
Theyre pretty decent.  
This thursday?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Yes, that sounds fine.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Alright, cool.

\---

“Dude, are you alright?” Finn asks, poking his head into the break room. Ben may or may not have slapped the table in his excitement over having a proper fucking date with Armitage _fucking_ Hux in a little more than three days. It may or may not have been a little loud.

“Fine,” Ben tells him. 

Finn looks at him dubiously but says slowly, “Okay, if you say so,” and continues to the office. Ben hears him say, “No, he says he’s fine,” to the managers, but can’t quite hear their reply. Ben should _probably_ be embarrassed about his outburst but he has a date with Armitage fucking Hux, so he could care less what his coworkers think of him.

A _date_. With Armitage _fucking_ Hux. In three days. _Three fucking days_. He might implode before then. He will almost probably definitely implode before then.

What are they going to talk about? Should he _drink_? He might need to be drunk to handle being on a _date_ with Armitage fucking Hux; fuck knows he didn’t handle breakfast well. He’ll have to do laundry to make sure he’s wearing his nicest underwear in case he gets laid.

Fuck. What is he going to _wear_?

\---

 **General Hux**  
What in the world am I going to wear?

 **Captain Phasma**  
Probably not your Good Boy persona

 **General Hux**  
Most certainly not. I looked the bar up; it’s a dive. My father would be incredibly upset if I went there.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Lol  
Just wear black  
You can't go wrong with plain black

 **General Hux**  
This is true. That does not, however, narrow it down much.

 **Captain Phasma**  
SIGH  
You're overthinking it  
I bet he'll be ecstatic that you just showed

 **General Hux**  
Probably. But still.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You're such a queer  
I can't believe your father can look at you and deny that you're a flaming homo

 **General Hux**  
Homophobia is incredibly convincing.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Lol  
Anyways, wear that military jumper you have with those aesthetically ripped jeans  
You look hot as sin in that jumper  
And ripped jeans are Very In right now

 **General Hux**  
Right. Good plan. Thank you.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You're very welcome

\---

 **big bad ben**  
I still dont know what to wear.  
What the fuck do i wear on a date with Armitage Fucking Hux??

 **Rey**  
obviously, the answer is black

 **big bad ben**  
Dude, seriously?  
This is IMPORTANT.

 **Rey**  
but, consider, i dont care

 **big bad ben**  
Who else am i going to ask???

 **Rey**  
how about anybody but me??  
like, maybe, your mom???

 **big bad ben**  
NO.  
My mother absolutely cannot know im going on a date with Armitage Fucking Hux.

 **Rey**  
jesus, ben, its not that big of a deal

 **big bad ben**  
You have no idea how much shit shed give me if she found out.

 **Rey**  
i was talking about your clothing

 **big bad ben**  
It IS a big deal though.  
I HAVE to impress him.  
Hes in a band.  
A fucking awesome band.

 **Rey**  
ben, he was apparently impressed by half naked you enough to agree to go on a stupid date with you  
chill the fuck out  
im sure whatever you wear will be fine

 **big bad ben**  
Youre no help.

 **Rey**  
nope :)  
i mean, ideally, it doesnt matter what you wear, because itll get taken off eventually

 **big bad ben**  
No youre not allowed to make dirty jokes at me youre like twelve.

 **Rey**  
i am NOT  
besides, youre the one who keeps coming to me about your boner for armchair

 **big bad ben**  
Ugh this was a mistake.

 **Rey**  
didnt you order a bunch of new clothes like last week?  
wear some of that

 **big bad ben**  
Yeah i did get a badass new sweater.  
But i still havent had a chance to wear that raglan i got last month since it has words on it.

 **Rey**  
then wear that, duh

 **big bad ben**  
Should i wear one of my holey sweaters?  
Fuck but which one??  
Shit wait i probably shouldnt since ill be working in it all day.  
I dont want to catch it on the bailer.  
Raglan it is.  
No wait work.  
Fuck.

\---

It’s about ten past nine and Armitage is on the back deck of the bar smoking while he waits for Ben. He’s leaning against the railing staring into the parking lot bordering the deck, cigarette held loosely between two fingers, when he sees Ben arrive.

Or more accurately, walk out of the thrift store next door.

He’s incredibly easy to spot, even fifteen meters away. He’s wearing one of his studded leather monstrosities, light from the street lamps glinting off spikes, accentuating how broad his shoulders are. He must catch sight of Armitage because, after a few casual steps across the parking lot, he perks up and strides over.

“Hey,” he says as he nears the fence between the parking lot and the deck. “You’re early.”

“I,” Armitage says, ashing his cigarette, “am precisely on time. You’re just late.”

Ben laughs, “Sorry,” sounding not sorry at all, then says, “I’ll be in in a sec. You almost done with that?”

Armitage stares at him while he takes a drag. There’s maybe a centimeter until the cherry hits filter. Ben tilts his head just slightly and stares back. Armitage sucks down more smoke and then aggressively stubs out what’s left of his cigarette.

He exhales and says, “I’ll meet you inside.”

The bar is not terribly crowded inside. It’s a Thursday, still fairly early in the evening. There’s some highlight reel of sports games being played on the TV behind the bar that a couple of patrons are paying rapt attention to. Ben walks in and immediately draws Armitage’s eye again.

Had they met any other way, had Ben not been a regular feature at his band’s shows as well as the son of Senator Organa, Armitage might have offered to buy him a drink and tried his best to get into his pants, never to see him again. Just the way it should be, to keep his father happy.

But Ben is an enigma. He offers Armitage a small smile, almost shy, as they meet in front of the bar, so different from the borderline hostility that he had for Armitage over brunch. And, of course, he did invite Armitage out for drinks. He’s here largely because he wants to know what Ben wants from him.

“Go ahead and order,” Ben says, gesturing to the bar. “I’ll get first round.”

Armitage orders his usual whiskey ginger and Ben gets, of all things, a Shirley Temple. Armitage expects him to ask for a shot of vodka with it or _something_ but no, just a Shirley Temple.

“ _Really_?” Armitage asks, fighting laughter. “I was aware that you had a sweet tooth but I did not realize it was this extensive.”

Ben levels him with a glare and _there_ is the antagonism Armitage expects from him. He holds up one hand and ticks off points as he says, “First off, I have to drive home after this, plus I’m not supposed to drink on my meds. I’m being _responsible_.”

Armitage opens his mouth to make a smart comment but thinks better of it, struck dumb at the mention of _meds_. He wants to ask _what kind?_ , to be invasive and nosey and learn all he can about Ben, but Ben is built like a brick shithouse and is already testy with him. Armitage doesn’t want to have to explain a black eye or a broken nose from pissing him off, so he swallows his words and simply offers a curt nod.

Ben eyes him warily, like he’s daring Armitage to start shit, but he’s still somehow amicable to taking over a table, their drinks in hand, to talk.

Ben shrugs out of his studded jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair. Under it, he's wearing a snug fitting black hoodie, the kind with thumb holes so the sleeves cover half his hands and under that, he's wearing a t-shirt with a deep v-neck, showing the dip of his clavicle.

“So,” Armitage starts awkwardly, trying not to stare, “you work at that thrift store then?”

“Yeah. I’m in the back,” Ben says, plucking one of the cherries off the top of his drink. He pops it into his mouth, the tips of his fingers pressed against his lips, tongue peeking out to lick away the juice on his skin.

Fuck.

Fuck him, fuck this, fuck Armitage himself for agreeing to go out with him tonight. This was a mistake. Armitage should most definitely _not_ fuck Senator Organa’s son. It doesn’t matter that he is incredibly, oddly attractive. It doesn’t matter that he’s confusing and infuriating and _interesting_. Armitage should get up and leave now, before he gets in too deep. Definitely before he tries to take Ben apart and find out what makes him tick. _Definitely_ before he gets plastered and can’t help but make advances.

Ben delicately sucks on the tip of his middle finger, the corners of his lips quirking up ever so slightly. He knows what he’s doing, damn him, he fucking _knows_.

Armitage wants nothing more than to slam into him and kiss that stupid smile away.

Armitage pretends to be interested in their small talk, prompting Ben to continue. Ben obliges, telling Armitage, “I’m the truck unloader. I unload the trucks.”

“Naturally,” Armitage says dryly. Ben flushes slightly, eyes glued to his drink as he stirs it with his straw.

“I do other things,” Ben says, “like sweep. And downstack. Sometimes I price books.”

Armitage smirks and sips his drink. Ben sounds like he’s trying to impress him. Armitage wouldn’t say he’s _impressed_ , per se, since his job sounds tedious, but the manual labour most definitely explains his physique.

“What do you do?” Ben asks.

“I’m in school,” Armitage says. “Electrical Engineering.” He should be proud; after all, he’s working on his master's. He is, however, not one hundred percent in love with the subject he’s studying. It was a compromise with his father, but Ben doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, uh, cool?” Ben says, sounding unsure.

“There are robots,” Armitage tells him.

Ben perks up and says, “Shit, really?”

That leads to Armitage aweing Ben with the more interesting applications of electrical engineering, explaining some of the projects he's worked on. Ben listens, rapt with wonder.

“That's some serious sci-fi shit,” he says once Armitage has wound down.

“A fan of sci-fi, then?” Armitage asks.

“Yeah, I grew up watching Star Trek and Doctor Who,” Ben tells him, a small, lopsided smile gracing his face. The look on his face as he reminisces is very sweet, lips crooked up, eyes downcast, watching his half empty drink as he fusses with the straw. He has _dimples_ and it is completely unfair.

It's Ben's turn to monologue as he talks about some of the books he's read recently, offering a variety of recommendations.

Armitage says, “Text me the name of that one and I’ll look it up,” and Ben beams. It's _unfair_.

Ben’s words peter out. They sit in a silence that is somewhere between awkward and amicable, a weird limbo of unfamiliar but not uncomfortable. Then Ben gestures to their drinks and asks, “Want another?”

“Sure, I suppose,” Armitage says, shrugging. He is somehow enjoying himself, if only for the eye candy Ben offers.

Ben comes back with fresh drinks. They continue to talk, bouncing from one subject to the next as they play get to know you. They're interrupted by an order of chili fries, of all things, being delivered to their table. Ben proceeds to distract him by eating with his hands, fingertips popping between his plush lips with every bite. He does he same thing he did with the fucking cherries, sucking on the tips of his fingers to clean them.

And Ben _knows_ it's distracting; he's got a smug little smirk on his insufferably pretty face. It's not quite arousing on it's own, but it is all too easy to imagine other things pressed between those soft, full lips to be sucked at gently.

Armitage has had enough alcohol to make the thought of taking Ben home with him… not a _good_ idea, exactly, but something he is seriously considering. Really, it's a very _bad_ idea, but this whole thing with Ben has been a bad idea. Maybe if he takes him home, fucks him hard and deep, sees him come undone, _maybe_ he'll get this out of his system and will stop wanting to take Ben apart. He'll be able to go back to how things were, with his split life and his secrets.

Ben finishes his damn chili cheese fries. They order another round. Armitage thinks very hard about how he should phrase things to make sure Ben knows this fuck is a one time thing.

And then Phasma slaps him on the back and leans her elbows on the edge of the table, asking, “How's the date going, boys?”

“It's not a date, Phasma, fuck off,” Armitage says automatically.

Phasma opens her mouth to rib him some more, but Ben slams his hands against the table before she gets the chance, silencing the bar for a beat, and says, “I've got to go.”

His chair scrapes against the floor as he abruptly stands, digging his wallet out of his back pocket with jerky movements. He slaps down two twenties and stalks off, yanking on his jacket as he goes. Armitage just watches him leave. Phasma sighs.

“Look at what you did this time,” she says, shaking her head.

“What _I_ did? This is your fault! Things were _fine_ until you showed up.”

She just levels him with a look that says, _Really?_ and sighs.

\---

Ben slams his palms against his steering wheel. Of fucking _course_ Armitage didn’t think of getting drinks together as a _date_. Armitage was probably just humouring him, the creepy loser who’s a fan of his band. He slams his hands against the steering wheel again, three times in rapid succession, until the heels of his palms sting like a motherfucker.

How could he be so stupid? He just spent the better part of two and a half hours flirting with someone he never in a million years had a chance with. Ben cringes thinking over his fumbling attempts at seduction, folding over to lean his forehead against the top arch of the steering wheel. Armitage is probably laughing about it with his bandmate.

He takes a deep breath.

His eyes sting, his stupid brain bringing him close to the verge of tears over something _stupid_.

He takes another deep breath.

It’s cold. He’s fogging up the windows of his car. His leather jacket weighs heavy across his shoulders, comfortingly familiar.

He takes another deep breath.

It’s fine. Who cares if Armitage was just humouring him? He still got to spend two and a half hours talking about anything and everything with the lead for one of his favourite bands. Who cares if Armitage is laughing at him now? It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. It’s just one person, someone he probably won’t have to talk to ever again.

Ben sniffles and drags the stinging heels of his palms across his eyes.

\---

 **Rey**  
so, howd your date go?

 **big bad ben**  
It wasnt a date.

 **Rey**  
it so totally was a date  
you were talking about it nonstop all week  
even finn knows it was a date

 **big bad ben**  
He said it wasnt a date therefore it wasnt a date.

 **Rey**  
oh, ben  
thats so shitty  
im so sorry :(  
do you want me to fight armchair  
youve shown me videos of them playing, hes pretty scrawny  
i bet i could take him

 **big bad ben**  
No its fine.

 **Rey**  
are you sure?

 **big bad ben**  
Yeah.  
It doesnt matter.

 **Rey**  
:(

\---

 **Captain Phasma**  
Have you apologized yet?

 **General Hux**  
No. It wasn’t a date. I don’t see why I should apologize for saying so.

 **Captain Phasma**  
SIGH.  
Seriously, Tidge, you are an asshole.

 **General Hux**  
So I’ve been told.

 **General Hux**  
I should apologize. I should have been clearer about going for drinks as… acquaintances, I suppose.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Nevermind that you were absolutely going to fuck him.

 **General Hux**  
I was not! That would have been extremely stupid. Word could easily get back to my father if I involved myself sexually with Ben fucking Organa.

 **Captain Phasma**  
How many drinks did you have?

 **General Hux**  
Three, but I fail to see how that matters.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Hm, yeah.  
Not quite enough for you to properly start thinking with your cock, but close.

 **General Hux**  
Ugh. Yes fine. I was thinking about it. However, I probably would not have gone through with it, no matter how pretty his mouth would look blowing me.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Thank you so very much for the visual.

 **General Hux**  
You’re very welcome.

\---

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
What was that book you were talking about?

\---

Sunday, Ben has to sit on the ground next to the bailer, head between his knees, because he made the mistake of checking his texts while on the clock only to find that Armitage fucking Hux had texted him not twenty minutes before. He’s still waiting on this evening’s truck’s arrival announcement; he’s already downstacked enough carts for it. He has plenty of time to sit and freak the fuck out because Armitage _fucking_ Hux texted him again, trying to incite conversation.

He doesn’t know what to say. He remembers talking about books over drinks and Armitage showing interest in one in particular, but he doesn’t remember which one.

By the time his break rolls around a little more than an hour later, he’s calmed down enough to reply.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Lol which one?

He hits send before he can overthink it. Not that that helps. He spends half his break folded over one of the tables with his face buried in his arms because holy _fuck_ , does that text sound stupid.

Armitage doesn’t reply, so obviously he must think so too.

\---

Ben very carefully does not check his phone until after he’s off, not wanting to flip out yet again while at work. Once a day is more than enough.

He waits until he’s safely at home, fresh from the shower, meds taken, and comfortably clad in just pj pants to open his texts.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
The one with the weird magic system.  
With paperwork magic? Did I remember that right?

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Bureaucromancy.  
The mancer trilogy.  
Idk what the authors name is i cant spell it to save my life but if you google mancer flex it should pop up.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
I have all three if you want to borrow my copy.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
With how busy my schedule is, I’m not sure I could read a novel in a timely manner, but thank you for the offer.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Yeah no problem.

Ben lies awake, phone held in one hand over his heart, working on breathing through the excitement-horror-dread of interacting with someone still new so he can go to sleep. He’s fucking baffled that Armitage still wants to talk to him after the fool he made of himself Thursday night. 

He’s just about to roll over to plug in his phone for the night when it buzzes in his hand again.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
What are you up to?

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Not much.  
Lying in bed.

 

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Me too.

Ben stares at his phone, wondering what the fuck he should say to that. He should reply, right? That _is_ how conversations work, but what does he _say_?

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before Armitage messages him again.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
You were a terrible tease the other night at the bar, you know.

Ben groans, throwing the arm holding his phone over his eyes. He absolutely does not want to be reminded of his lousy attempts at seduction, and he’s halfway through messaging Armitage that when yet another text comes through.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
I’ve thought of nothing but your sinful lips wrapped around things much better than a cherry since then.

Oh. Okay. That is not what Ben expected _at all_. He has to sit up straight, legs crossed under him, chest open, and _breathe_.

His thumb swipes across his keyboard before he can overthink things.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Are you sexting me?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Yes. Is that a problem?

Breathing is not helping. What the fuck does Armitage _want_ from him? This back and forth is giving him whiplash and he just doesn’t know what to do.

But Armitage _fucking_ Hux has most definitely thought about Ben blowing him. He might even be hard right now, as he’s texting Ben, the hand not on his phone stroking his dick.

Ben throws his phone at the end of his bed. It bounces off his mattress and lands on the floor with a soft thud. He covers his face with his hands and _breathes_ , leaning forward until he’s folded over his lap and face down on his bed. He should shut Armitage down, tell him to fuck off and quit playing with him. It would not be smart to get involved with someone so flippant and uncaring.

Ben is not smart.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Depends.  
What do i get out of it?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
The knowledge that someone from your favourite band wants to fuck your mouth, among other things.

Armitage has him there. He’d like that very much.

He texts:

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Is that all?

Ben gets a picture in reply; a glorious hard on lit softly with warm light. Armitage is fisting the base, holding it straight up, foreskin slid back just slightly to offer a peek at the velvet pink head. It's thick, much thicker than Ben would have expected given how slender the rest of Armitage is. Ben wants nothing more than to put his mouth on it.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Your turn.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Im not hard yet.

He’s not, but with that picture, _knowing_ Armitage is jerking off right now _because of him_ , it won't take long for him to get there.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Pity. I want to see what you have to offer.

Ben leans back against his pillows, legs stretched out in front of him, and nudges his pj pants down enough to grab his dick. He's already half hard from just _knowing_ Armitage wants him. A few strokes has him hard enough to be impressive, so he snaps a pic and sends it before he can think too much about it.

Armitage’s reply is nearly immediate.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Glorious.  
I should not be surprised that your cock is pierced given your face, but I am. It is incredibly hot.

Ben runs his thumb along the ring through his head, rolling it through his skin. He doesn't know what to say. Armitage thinking his piercings are hot just… it's too much. He can feel how he's flushed, his face hot with embarrassment.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Are you touching yourself?

Technically Ben is. He has his hand on his dick but he's not quite jerking off. He's still keyed up, anxious because he doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know what Armitage wants from him. He doesn’t even know what _he_ wants from _Armitage_.

He knows that he’s hard. He knows that Armitage is probably hard, given the picture. He knows Armitage wants to fuck him. He knows he thinks Armitage is really fucking hot. Does he want to fuck Armitage? Part of him is like _fuck yes_ but his stupid brain keeps getting in the way, reminding him of all the ways it could go wrong. 

Does he want to sext with Armitage? He takes a deep breath and wills his mind to shut up for once.

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Yeah.  
Are you?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Yes. I can’t stop thinking of your lovely mouth on me.

Ben strokes himself from root to tip slowly. He wonders how Armitage is going at it. Is he going slow like Ben, savouring every touch, or is he speeding through to an orgasm, desperate to get off?

 **Ben the Stalker**  
Can i call you?  
Hard to thpe with my hand on my dick.

Ben can't believe he's doing this. It's simultaneously the best and worst thing he's ever done.

His phone rings and he picks up immediately, not wanting his parents to hear.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.

“Hello to you too,” Armitage replies. He sounds amused, warm and pleased, unlike how Ben has heard his voice before. It only serves to remind Ben that this is a stupid idea. Armitage is just using him; Ben is only a means to an end, a warm body to lie with.

But Armitage is also breathing hard, huffing into the phone as he jerks off. It goes straight to Ben's dick. His hand speeds up, going from leisurely touching to intentional masturbation.

“The things I want to do to you, Ben,” Armitage murmurs, his words punctuated with a little gasp of pleasure. 

Ben shivers and breathes, “Yeah?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Armitage hisses, “I want you naked and begging for me as I stroke your glorious cock. I want to fuck your lovely mouth until I come down your throat then I want to suck your lovely cock and milk your prostate and make you scream.”

Ben covers his mouth with his free hand as he groans, phone pinned between his shoulder and his ear.

“That's it, lovely, make noise for me,” Armitage croons.

“I can't,” Ben tells him. “My parents…”

“I see. _Well_ , I'll just have to bring you home with me where it doesn't matter if anyone overhears.”

Ben bites his lip and whimpers, hand still covering his mouth. He can't believe Armitage is interested in him, that he actually wants to bring him home and fuck him. Warning bells ring in his head, telling him it's too good to be true, that Armitage is just using him, but the way he's encouraging Ben to get off with soft, sweet words is fucking wonderful. So what if Armitage is just using him; it wouldn't be the first time someone's used Ben like that. At least Ben will get good stories out of this.

He wants desperately for the hand on his dick to be Armitage’s. He wants Armitage’s slender body against him in any way he can; rutting or fucking, it doesn't matter as long as he gets to touch Armitage.

“I wish you were here,” he sighs into the phone before he can think twice.

“Me too,” Armitage replies. “I want to take you apart. I want to hear you moaning my name as I fuck you, as you come for me.”

Ben's breath hitches and he stutters, “I, I'm close.”

“ _Good_. Come for me, Ben, please. I want to hear you.”

Ben doubles down, jerking off with intent. He finds he desperately wants to please Armitage, wants to do good enough for Armitage to come back to him for more. He whimpers again as he fucks his hand, listening to the small sounds Armitage makes on the other end of the line.

When he comes, he moans Armitage’s name probably louder than he should, shivering with the force of his orgasm. Armitage groans in reply, then a few seconds later, his breath hitches and he breathes out a long, drawn out, “ _Fuck_.”

Ben wants to ask if he did well, his brain in overdrive as his anxieties flare up now that he came. He tells himself obviously he did an okay job at this, considering it sounds like Armitage came too.

After a long moment where they both just pant as they wind down,Armitage says, “I most definitely want to take you home with me. I should have Thursday.”

Ben doesn't know what to say. It's nice, he thinks, to know Armitage wants him but it's also scary as shit. His stupid brain can't help but tell him all the things that could go wrong, that Armitage _is_ just using him, that he doesn't actually care about Ben as a person, he’s just a convenient fan obsessed with Armitage’s band.

“Are you going to be at our next show?” Armitage asks, interrupting Ben’s stupid brain’s stupid monologue.

“Um, yeah, probably,” Ben says.

“Right, good,” Armitage says. “I'll see you there then.” Then, a beat later, he adds softly, “I should let you go. You have work in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Yeah, night.”

By the time Ben pulls his phone away from his ear, Armitage has already hung up.

What the fuck is he doing?

\---

Armitage can’t stop thinking about the call with Ben or the picture he sent him. He can’t get those moans and whimpers or the sight of his beautiful pierced cock out of his head. He was _perfect_. He _is_ perfect, built and inked and pierced, and so sweet when he’s hard. Armitage still desperately wants to take him apart. He's not so sure now that a casual fuck will satisfy him. There's just so much to Ben, the antagonism and the self-consciousness alternating hot and cold. Just as Armitage thinks he has a handle on Ben’s attitude towards him, it shifts yet again.

What has Ben so wound up, obviously interested in Armitage but so ready to fight him at any moment? What is he hiding, what makes him tick? The more Armitage interacts with Ben, the more questions he has, wondering what the actual fuck is going on in Ben’s head.

And of course the enigma of Ben's behaviour is wrapped in a glorious body, everything Armitage wants and everything his father hates.

Armitage is fucked.

\---

 **General Hux**  
He has a pierced dick.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You’re fucked

 **General Hux**  
I’m fucked.

 **Captain Phasma**  
How’d you manage to see his cock?

 **General Hux**  
How am I supposed to not fuck him? How can I fuck him and keep my father from finding out?  
I got spectacularly shitfaced, sent him a picture of my own, and managed to convince him to reply in kind. Then I got him on the phone and listened to him moan my name as he came.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You are most definitely fucked  
Also thank you for the details I most definitely did not need

 **General Hux**  
You asked.

 **Captain Phasma**  
A 'we swapped pics' would have sufficed

 **General Hux**  
That would not have expressed the sheer magnitude of how fucked I am.

 **Captain Phasma**  
True  
Your thirst for our stalker is pretty extreme, Tidge

 **General Hux**  
Why does he have to be a politician’s child? Why couldn’t he be some nobody I met in a bar?

 **Captain Phasma**  
Would you be interested in him if he wasn’t Organa’s kid?

 **Captain Phasma**  
Your silence is very telling

 **General Hux**  
Him being who he is is what makes him interesting. If he was just some nobody, I would probably still want to fuck him; he’s gorgeous, but he’s more than just a pretty face.

 **Captain Phasma**  
Oh Tidge, you’ve gone and gotten attached

 **General Hux**  
I have not! I’m not interested in dating him.

 **Captain Phasma**  
You just want to take him apart and learn all there is about him

\---

Over the two weeks between Armitage drunkenly sexting Ben and The First Order’s next show, Armitage very purposefully does not contact Ben. Ben doesn't message him either, seemingly content to just wait until the show. For some reason that bothers Armitage; shouldn't Ben be fawning over him, trying to get Armitage to pay attention to him? Instead, Armitage gets silence until he sees that familiar frame hunched over a table in the back of the bar.

They play, loud and angry, Armitage watching Ben watch him, and once they’re done with their set, Armitage hands his guitar over to Phasma and hops down off the low stage.

Ben stares passively as Armitage walks up to him.

“Come on, get up,” Armitage says without preamble. “I’m enlisting you to help us pack up.”

Ben raises one eyebrow but stands, slowly unfolding from his place on the stool hunched over the table. Armitage takes hold of one of his hands, leading him towards their gear, refusing to think of the implications of _holding hands_. Ben follows along amicably enough.

By the time they reach Phasma, their instruments are safely in their cases and she’s working on breaking down Mitaka’s drum set. Armitage sets to work, carrying things out to tetris them into the back of Phasma’s van. Ben hovers awkwardly, holding the door to the bar open for him and Phasma. He makes a serviceable doorstop, standing by prettily and mostly out of the way.

Phasma finds a loose brick to wedge the door open after they finish loading the van, shooing Ben away. Armitage leans against the back bumper of the van, tapping a fresh pack of cigarettes against the heel of his palm. Ben hesitates, looking a little lost, before joining him, watching as Armitage places a cigarette between his lips.

“Scoot over,” Phasma says, nudging Ben closer to Armitage casually, treating him like she would treat Armitage himself. Ben shuffles over until he’s shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with Armitage, the spikes on his jacket sharp even through the wool of Armitage’s peacoat. Phasma wedges her ass in the small space between the wall of the van and an amp and scuffs the soles of her boots against the pavement as she crosses her ankles.

“So,” she starts, staring at Ben up close and personal, “you’re our number one fan.”

Even in the late night street light, Armitage can see the blush tinging Ben’s cheeks. Armitage lights his cigarette, blowing smoke into the cool autumn air. 

“You do have our logo tattooed on you,” Armitage says. “That’s dedication.”

Phasma’s smirk sharpens as she adds, “Over your heart and everything. One might think you have a crush on one of us.”

Ben stares firmly at the ground in front of him, tongue peeking out to wet his lip. His breath has picked up, coming in sharp, quick inhales while his blush has darkened.

“That’s fine,” Phasma continues. “Tidge thinks you’re quite fit.”

Ben glances over at him and says, “I know.”

Armitage’s lips quirk up around his cigarette and Phasma slaps Ben on the back.

“Good,” she says. “Do something about it then.”

She scoots out of her spot and walks back into the bar without looking back. Ben stares after her for a long moment before turning back to Armitage, asking, “Did she just tell us to fuck?”

Armitage snorts and blows smoke out into the night air.

“Basically,” he says.

“Out here?” Ben sounds incredulous, nervous, like he can’t believe someone would want to casually fuck him.

“We could,” Armitage says. “There’s room in the back seat of the van. Or we could go inside, into the toilet.”

Ben stares at him, narrowing his eyes. It’s the hard, cold look he leveled Armitage with at the charity dinner, at brunch with his mother; the look that tells Armitage he’ll take no prisoners, that he’ll fight until he wins or dies, and Armitage very much wants to kiss him, fight with lips and tongues and teeth, hands all over each other. 

“I thought you wanted to take me home,” Ben says, the words somehow sounding like a challenge. Armitage flicks his cigarette to the ground, grinds it out with the toe of his boot as he exhales his last breath of smoke before he crowds into Ben’s space, hands on his waist under his jacket. He’s straddling one of Ben’s thick thighs, leaning up to be cheek to cheek with him.

“But isn’t this more fun?” he says softly, right into Ben’s ear. This close, Armitage can feel the way Ben shivers, his breath hitching. Armitage pushes in closer, until his groin is pressed against Ben’s hard thigh and his hip is against Ben’s cock.

Armitage sneaks his fingers up under Ben’s shirt, desperate to get his hands on bare skin. He’s so warm under his layers and he shivers again, pressing his face into the crook of Armitage’s neck. Armitage strokes his side sweetly and rolls their hips together, pleased with the tiny gasp of pleasure that pops out of Ben.

“That’s it,” Armitage says. “Just like that.”

Armitage can feel Ben’s cock filling out, growing harder as they rock together. It feels just as impressive as it looked in the picture, thick and gorgeous and there just for him. Ben bites at his neck, startling a gasp out of him.

“I want you. Will you let me have you?” Armitage asks. Ben just groans and nods. Armitage pulls away just slightly, enough to look Ben in the face. He can’t help but smirk; Ben is obviously overwhelmed by arousal, pupils blown wide, breath coming quick and hard. Ben stares at him, waiting for the next move. Armitage says, “Let’s go inside then.”

He pulls away fully, tugging Ben away from the boot of the van by his belt loops. He’s going to fucking _devour_ Ben, pull him apart and finally see what makes him tick.

\---

Ben is…

He’s okay. He’s _fine_. This is fine; he was expecting something like this to happen, given the sexting, even if there was nothing between then and now. Armitage wants to fuck him. He _wants_ Armitage to fuck him. He’s already hard and desperate from just being pressed up against him, and now Armitage is pulling him along, through the propped open back door and down the short hall to the bathrooms, into the one stall with a working lock.

Armitage presses him against the wall, hands on Ben’s waist, rocking their hips together. Ben groans and clutches at Armitage’s shoulders.

What the fuck is he doing, grinding against someone he hardly knows in a shitty bar’s bathroom? This is probably not what his therapist meant when she told him to try getting outside his comfort zone.

“When were you last tested?” Armitage asks, voice low and sultry, right in his ear.

The answer is never; it's been just him and his hand since he left school, left Snoke and The Knights. 

“A while,” he breathes, carefully avoiding the truth. “But I haven't been with anyone since.”

Armitage hums and noses at his jaw. Ben desperately wants to kiss him.

“Should I trust you?” Armitage asks, teasing, running his hand down Ben's side to rub over his hard on. 

Ben whimpers, “Yeah.”

“ _Why_?”

Because, at this point, with Armitage pressed against him, their cocks hard against each other, Ben would do anything for him.

“Why would I lie?” he says instead. Armitage hums again, thoughtful, and squeezes Ben’s dick.

“Why indeed,” Armitage says, and then he sinks to his knees. Ben gasps and knocks his head back against the wall as Armitage presses his mouth against Ben’s crotch. Ben’s hands ghost over Armitage’s hair, barely brushing the copper strands. Ben looks down just in time to see Armitage look up at him, smirking against Ben’s clothed cock. It’s too much. Ben groans.

Armitage deftly unbuckles Ben’s belt, then undoes the button hiding behind it, tugging Ben’s pants open and down his hips. He snorts and murmurs, “Lucky me, indeed,” as he slips his fingers under the waistband of Ben’s underwear. Ben is confused for a moment until he remembers the little tag in his fly, then Armitage has his dick out, stroking it firmly from root to tip, right in front of his face.

“Marvelous,” he says, fingering the ring through Ben’s head. It slides through his flesh, making him shiver.

This is all him; his idea, mostly. He wants this, wants Armitage to grind against him, to blow him, to get him off, even if they’re in a shitty bar’s dingy bathroom. He wants Armitage to enjoy himself. He’ll do whatever it takes to please him, and Ben knows that this is probably stupid, that he’s putting all his chips in when he’s got a shit hand, but there’s a chance, no matter how small, that this will go _right_. At the very least, Ben will be blown by someone he finds extremely attractive. That’s worth it, right?

Armitage pulls a condom from his pocket and carefully unrolls it down Ben’s dick, pressing his lips to the tip in a gentle kiss. The sight of Armitage like this, on his knees, opening his mouth to take Ben’s dick into his mouth confirms it; this will be worth it, Ben tells himself. It’ll be fine.

And Armitage’s mouth on him is heavenly. Ben leans his head back and groans, brushing his fingers through Armitage’s hair. It’s loose, soft against Ben’s fingertips, and Armitage’s mouth is so very hot on his dick. He focuses on that, on the lips and tongue sliding over his dick, on the warm hands holding his hips. It’s amazing, fucking incredible. 

Ben covers his mouth with one hand, trying to muffle his moans as Armitage sucks down more and more of his dick.

“I want to touch you,” Ben whispers desperately from behind his fingers. Armitage laughs around him. Ben tugs at the shoulder of his jacket and says, “ _Please_.”

Armitage pops off him, smirking up at him while he strokes Ben’s cock with one hand, right by his cheek. Ben stares, breathing hard, memorizing the scene before him.

“Please,” he says again.

“Oh, alright,” Armitage says, fingers sliding away from Ben’s dick. He stands and shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the stall’s door. Ben’s hands go to his waist, pulling him close. Armitage works his hands between them to unbutton his pants and pull out his own cock. It’s just as lovely in person as it was in the picture and Ben can’t help but stroke the velvet pink head. His fingers come away sticky with precome and his breath hitches.

Armitage tucks his face back against Ben’s as they rut together, Ben’s hands all over the place; on Armitage’s shoulders, on his waist, his hips, his ass, anywhere he can touch to bring Armitage closer to him. Armitage gasps and sighs into Ben’s ear, voicing his pleasure softly, just for Ben, while Ben whimpers and moans and tries so hard to stifle his cries behind a hand, against Armitage’s shoulder.

“So noisy,” Armitage teases, sounding pleased. “Are you going to come moaning my name again?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ben hisses, pushing a hand between their bodies to hold their dicks together. He fucks into his hand, against Armitage, half latex and half soft foreskin, until he’s shaking and _so fucking close_.

“Come on, Ben, come for me.”

It doesn’t take much more for Ben to groan, “Fuck, Armitage,” against Armitage’s neck, hand not on their dicks clamped on the back of Armitage’s neck, holding him close as he comes. Ben goes jelly limbed after, his grip on Armitage slacking. Armitage bats his hand away from their dicks, taking over to jerk himself to completion.

Ben noses against Armitage’s cheek, kissing his jaw, seeking out his lips. Armitage turns his face away, burying it in Ben’s neck as he huffs laboured breaths, his orgasm drawing closer. Ben’s heart clenches, but then Armitage groans, hips jerking against his hand as he comes.

Armitage slowly relaxes against Ben, nuzzling his neck, breathing hard. Ben’s twisted up inside, his brain already trying to convince him something’s wrong.

Armitage finally pulls away, brushing his hair out of his eyes with his clean hand. He has a small, pleased smile tilting his lips, his eyes at half mast, looking thoroughly content with the force of his orgasm. Ben stares at him slack-jawed as Armitage yanks out a length of toilet paper to wipe his hand clean.

He just had his dick sucked by Armitage fucking Hux. He got to touch Armitage fucking Hux’s beautiful cock, got to jerk them off until he came, got to listen to Armitage fucking Hux jerk off until he came too.

Ben desperately wants to kiss him.

Armitage sighs happily and tucks his dick back into his jeans.

Ben licks his lips and says, “You didn’t kiss me.”

Armitage looks at him, still faintly smiling, and tilts his head.

“Why would I?” he asks. “It was just a fuck.”

Okay. That’s fine. Ben can deal with that. He feels his heart start to crumble. It’s _fine_. He’s dealt with worse. Of course it was just a fuck. Of _course_. Who would want more from him anyway?

He stares after Armitage, dick still out, as he unlocks the stall and steps out.


	3. lets conspire to ignite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand heres where we get bens tragic backstory, but this chapter is like half porn, so theres that

There’s a streak of come dried on his shirt. Ben idly picks at it as he sits on the edge of his bed. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he had _sex_ with Armitage fucking Hux. Sort of twice even, if you count the phone call.

What the _fuck_ does Armitage want from him? What the fuck does he want from Armitage?

He focuses on breathing, on inhaling until his lungs are so full it hurts, exhaling until there’s nothing left.

Armitage is hot. He, for some reason, wants to fuck Ben, maybe repeatedly. Ben…

Doesn’t know what he wants.

He doesn’t _regret_ what he did with Armitage. It was nice; anxiety-inducing, but nice— more than nice, fucking _incredible_. He wants nothing more than to do it again, to do _more_ , to lie Armitage out on his bed, stripped down to nothing, to touch him everywhere with his fingers, his lips.

But what does Armitage _want_?

\---

“So how’d it go?” Phasma asks as she pulls out of the alley behind the bar.

“How’d what go?” Mitaka asks from the back, leaning as far forward between the front seats as his seatbelt will allow.

“Tidge is hot for our stalker,” Phasma tells him. Armitage covers his eyes with one hand, sighing.

“Stalker?”

“You know, that tall bloke with the long hair who’s at every show.”

Mitaka laughs, “You just described like, half our fanbase.”

“You know, my height, built like a brick shithouse, dark hair, lots of piercings.”

Mitaka goes, “Hmm,” and flops back into his seat, thinking. “Yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about. Buys things constantly, has a boring white boy name—”

“Ben,” Armitage interjects without thinking.

“Yeah, him,” Mitaka says. “You’re trying to fuck him?”

Phasma answers for him, proudly saying, “Yep.” She glances over at Armitage, looking smug, and needles sing-song, “So how’d it go?”

Armitage sighs again and says, “I sucked his cock in the loo.”

Phasma crows with laughter and slaps him across the chest. Mitaka snorts and says, “Congratulations on not surprising us one bit.”

Armitage sighs for a third time, fingertips pressed to his eyes until he sees stars. Why does he put up with these people?

“You want to know the best part?” Phasma asks. She doesn’t wait for a reply before adding, “He’s Senator Organa’s _son_.”

“ _No_ ,” Mitaka gasps before cracking up laughing. “Your father is going to have a complete shitfit, Tidge.”

“Ideally, he never finds out,” Armitage says. “After all, it was just a fuck in the loo.”

“And sexting,” Phasma adds helpfully. Mitaka laughs some more.

“Sexting hardly counts,” Armitage grouses.

“Did you get off?” Mitaka asks, absolutely delighted. “Did _he_ get off?”

“Absolutely,” Phasma answers for him. “While on the phone and everything.”

“You _called_ him?” Mitaka cackles. “That _absolutely_ counts.”

Armitage groans,”Can we _please_ talk about something other than my sex life?”

“No,” they say in almost perfect unison.

“You two are complete arseholes,” he tells them.

“But you love us,” Phasma says. “Now tell us absolutely _everything_.”

\---

Once home, Armitage wonders what the fuck he's gotten himself into. He feels like he's talking himself in circles, both trying to convince himself to go for it, to continue fucking Ben, to see where this path leads, and to _not_. Ben is dangerous; he's too close to Armitage’s father. It would be so easy for word to get to him and Armitage just can't risk that.

But Ben is _fascinating_ and so eager to please him. He went along with Armitage to the toilet so willingly, was pliant and wonderful in Armitage’s hands. All Armitage had to do was get him hard. That's what Armitage wants in a man: someone beautiful and willing and not so dull Armitage is bored anytime he opens his mouth. Ben is that, more than that, feisty and sweet in turns. Fascinating.

Armitage runs through his evening routine, unlacing his boots,washing his face, brushing his teeth, all while thinking of the glorious sounds Ben had muffled into his hand. He had sounded completely undone just from a little cock sucking. It was incredible.

And he had felt so nice filling Armitage’s mouth, thick and heavy and hot. The ring through his head, even with the latex of the condom over it, was delicious, a foreign ridge against Armitage’s tongue. 

Armitage absolutely wants to fuck him again.

\---

“Ben?” Sonya calls from the doorway. Ben stands and jams his phone back into his pocket, following her through the door and into the hallway behind it. She asks, “How are you doing?”

Ben makes a noncommittal _eh_ noise, wiggling his hand for emphasis, palm to the floor, years of practice having long since taught him to be honest.

She smiles and teases, “That good, huh?” as she gestures him into her office. He sits on the couch at one end while she settles into a chair opposite, behind a sleek computer. She props an elbow on her desk and rests her chin on her fist, pausing to just observe him for a moment. Ben would, in different circumstances, be extremely uncomfortable being leveled with her gaze, but he’s been seeing her for almost eight years. She’s seen him through some of the worst shit in his life and has been nothing but brutally honest with him. Her stare is nothing but patience as he works up the balls to talk about what’s been on his mind.

He runs his teeth over his lip rings before blurting out, “I had sex with the frontman of my favourite local band.”

“Wow! That’s quite a big step,” Sonya says. Ben can tell she’s fighting a grin, proud of him for getting laid like a big sister but too professional to show it.

“Yeah,” Ben says, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I, I don’t know how I feel about it. Like, on one hand, hell yeah, I got to have _sex_ with Armitage _fucking_ Hux, but on the other hand it was a quickie blowjob in a bar bathroom and I’m just like, what the fuck?”

Sonya _hmm_ s, then says, “Let’s break it down. On a scale of, let’s say, zero to five, with zero being ‘awful’ and five being ‘great’, how do you feel about what happened?”

“Um, four-ish?”

“Mostly good then, right?” Sonya asks. Ben nods and she nods back, saying, “Alright. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Ben nods again. It’s not the whole answer but it’s close enough to the truth to suffice for now.

“Do you want to have sex with him again?”

“Yeah, I think, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Ben huffs a sigh. “I’m not really eager for the anxiety that came with it but yeah, I want to.”

“Okay. It’s understandable to be anxious about sex, especially sex with someone you don’t know well yet, given your circumstances. I’m sure, however, you’ll find yourself being less anxious as time goes on, if you choose to continue having sex with this person.” Sonya smiles at him, tilting her head, and goes in for the kill: “Do you want to date Armitage?”

Ben groans and drags his hands down his face.

“No. I mean maybe? I don’t know him well enough to know yet, but I’m not exactly boyfriend material, so.”

“Why do you say that?” she asks calmly, like they’re discussing the weather instead of any one of Ben’s many faults. Her words are matter of fact, carrying none of the guilty dismay that would come had he admitted that to anyone else he knows.

Ben still scowls at her, at _himself_ , and says, “I’m a mess. You know that, I know that, Armitage will eventually figure that out and then he’ll decide that I’m not worth it and _leave_.”

“If someone doesn’t want to make the effort to be with you, then _they’re_ the one not worth it,” she tells him firmly. “Has your family left you? Have I left you?”

Ben scowls harder at that, saying, “Of course you haven’t left me. I _pay_ you to talk to me.”

“I could have passed you off to someone else if I thought we wouldn’t be a good fit, but I didn’t. You’re strong, Ben; you’re making great progress dealing with your ‘stupid brain’. Here,” she says, clicking for something on her computer, “I’ll show you.”

The printer whirrs to life and a moment later Sonya plucks out a piece of paper, scooting closer to hand it over. She rolls even closer, her office chair bumping the couch.

“Here,” she says, pointing at a spike in the graph, “is where you started being honest on the survey.” She traces her finger down the graph. “See how it trends lower and lower in the last two or so years? You always spike a little in the winter, but over all you’re doing a whole hell of a lot better.”

Something in Ben’s chest unclenches. The graph is concrete proof that he _is_ doing better. He hadn’t realized; every day blends together with the last in a haze of anxiety, but she’s right. He can’t remember the last time he rated a two or higher on the _do you have thoughts of hurting yourself_ question.

She smiles at him and says, “See?” before she sits back in her chair, rolling away a few inches. He looks up from the graph, a little dumbfounded.

“I think, if you’re smart about things, this will be good for you,” she tells him. “Be careful, keep in touch with your feelings, and most importantly, _communicate_. With him, with Rey and your mom, with me. You’ve got this, Ben. You’re smart and capable and you have a good support system. Even if things don’t go well with this guy, you’ll be fine. Believe in yourself.”

Ben nods, eyes back on the graph. Later, when he gets home, he pins the graph above his bed, a talisman to point his head in the right direction.

\---

**big bad ben**  
My therapist says i should fuck armitage.  
Or more accurately continue fucking.

**Rey**  
dude, i really, really, do not want to know

**big bad ben**  
She also told me to communicate with people about it.  
And i sure as hell am not going to talk with my mom about the sex im having.  
So its all you sorry.

**Rey**  
you really need to get some more friends  
you know, you were the one to go, youre like twelve, dont make dirty jokes, like, three weeks ago  
so why are you suddenly talking to me about the sex youre having

**big bad ben**  
Ive got to talk to SOMEONE.

**Rey**  
isnt that what your therapist is for

**big bad ben**  
I TOLD you she told me to talk to other people about it too.

**Rey**  
SIGH  
congrats on having sex with armchair, i guess, im proud of you  
i had really hoped that you banging him, would mean i wouldnt have to hear about your boner for him, anymore

**big bad ben**  
Sorry jeeze.  
Ill shut up then.

**Rey**  
dude, ben, it doesnt actually bother me  
jsyk, its okay, ill listen, im just giving you shit  
how WAS sex with armchair

**big bad ben**  
You dont actually want to know.

**Rey**  
i mean, not really?  
but you want to talk about it, so ill listen  
what is family for, right?

**big bad ben**  
I guess.

**Rey**  
so go for it  
tell me all the gross details  
ill nod at all the right places

**big bad ben**  
Lol.  
I mean i guess, if you want to?

**Rey**  
go for it, bro  
im all ears

**big bad ben**  
Thanks.  
So uh, he blew me in the bathroom of the bar his show was at.

**Rey**  
uh huh

**big bad ben**  
And that part was good.  
But i wanted him to kiss me.

**Rey**  
he didnt?

**big bad ben**  
No.

**Rey**  
oh, ben, that sucks :(

**big bad ben**  
He said it was just a fuck so why would he.

**Rey**  
thats so shitty  
im gonna fight him

**big bad ben**  
No its okay.  
Really.  
Like, i get it?  
It WAS just a fuck.  
We were in the bathroom at a shitty bar.  
Not the most romantic place.

**Rey**  
he still coulda kissed you :(

\---

Armitage regrets not kissing Ben. Ben had been so eager for it but Armitage had pulled away. He should have just done it, kissed him, given Ben that one thing. Armitage suspects he doesn’t have many suitors, given how his mother tries so hard to secure dates for him. He should have just fucking kissed him.

It’s been on his mind all week, eating at him.

He _does_ want to kiss Ben, to devour Ben’s plush mouth, to make him moan and gasp with nothing more than that. Armitage bets he could too; get Ben hard and desperate by just kissing him. He _wants_ to.

\---

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Would you like to come over for a movie after you’re off work sometime this week?

Ben’s chest tightens with anxiety. He still can’t believe that Armitage keeps wanting to talk to him but he manages to reply quickly.

**Ben the Stalker**  
Yeah sure.  
What day did you have in mind?

\---

Ben, the sweet thing he is, brings a six pack of fancy microbrew beer, a stout that Phasma would absolutely adore if only she were here. Armitage has to gently tell Ben that he’s not a fan of beer, watching as Ben’s face tinges pink with embarrassment.

“I’ll save it for the next time Phasma’s here,” Armitage tells him, plucking the six pack from Ben’s fingers to put it into the fridge.

“She’s not here?” Ben asks, leaning from the doorway into the rest of the apartment to see.

“No,” Armitage tells him. “It’s just you and me tonight.”

“Oh, um,” Ben says, blush darkening. Armitage is sure Ben now understands his intent. He says, “I’ll, I’ll have one of those beers, then.”

Armitage is already opening the fridge again as he teases, “I thought you don’t drink.”

“ _A_ beer is not going to fuck me up,” Ben tells him. “I just don’t drink in places where the expectation is to _get drunk_.”

Armitage hums in acknowledgement, opening the bottle for Ben. He says, “Shoes off,” as he slips past his hulking frame to go sit on the couch. Armitage hears the zip of laces being undone before twin thumps of boots being dumped haphazardly sound through his apartment.

Without his boots, Ben is near silent. Armitage only avoids being startled by him appearing by the couch because he’s watching him out of the corner of his eye. Ben sits gingerly next to him, feet flat on the floor, leaning forward slightly like he’s ready to bolt. Armitage has one foot tucked under him, leaning casually into the corner of the couch. Ben very pointedly does not look at him. It makes Armitage smirk.

“What did you want to watch?” Ben asks. 

Armitage already has Netflix booted up on his Playstation. He gestures to the screen and says, “Your pick.”

“You know, I really didn’t peg you as a game console owning type of person,” Ben says as he picks up the controller, the easy way he flicks through the menu saying Ben _is_ the type to play video games. Armitage shrugs.

 

“It’s a Netflix machine really,” he says. Ben tilts his head towards Armitage the slightest amount, his eyes flicking over to him.

“There are things made for just streaming that are a hell of a lot cheaper than a PS4.”

Armitage smirks and says, “But I do love spending my father’s money. Besides, there was a game Phasma wanted to play that was exclusive and _she_ couldn’t justify the expense.”

“But you could,” Ben says, aiming a small smile at him.

“Yeah,” Armitage says, hating how breathless he sounds. He’s struck by how handsome Ben is, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head tilted towards Armitage, a small, crooked smile tilting his lips with his dark hair in his equally dark eyes. He’s pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, his jacket discarded in the entryway. The reds and yellows swirling on the inside of his forearm catch Armitage’s eye.

Armitage did not get a good look at any of Ben’s tattoos, save for The First Order logo over his heart, when he saw Ben shirtless over brunch. Gently, he touches the inside of Ben’s forearm. Ben automatically tilts it towards him, showing him the phoenix. It’s gorgeous, feathers mingling with flame with a golden halo behind the phoenix’s head, like it’s from a Renaissance painting.

Underneath the ink, neat and orderly lines of scars stripe Ben’s skin.

Shit. _Fuck_. Armitage traces the tip of one finger down the length of Ben’s forearm, feeling the ridges of scars and ink, and thinks, _How the fuck_ could _I?_ The callous way he treated this poor, broken boy at the bar makes him want to shrink back in shame. Instead, he presses forward, mouth gravitating to Ben’s, lips and tongue and teeth.

Ben drops the Playstation controller to the floor, both hands coming up to cup Armitage’s cheeks as they kiss. Armitage all but climbs into his lap, pressed close, one hand on Ben’s jaw, the other on his shoulder, anchoring him in place. Ben groans and the sound goes straight to Armitage’s cock.

“I thought you wanted to watch movies,” Ben says breathlessly against Armitage’s mouth.

“Don’t you think this is a better use of our time?” Armitage asks in reply, sucking on Ben’s bottom lip for punctuation. Ben groans again and Armitage just pushes him over, easy as can be, and straddles his waist, bent over him. Ben rolls under him, stretching his long legs across the couch. His hands travel down Armitage’s body, from his cheeks down his neck, across his chest, to settle on his hips.

“I guess,” Ben murmurs. “Especially considering you seem to only watch documentaries.”

“They’re good background noise.”

Ben sounds thoroughly sarcastic when he goes, “Uh huh,” making Armitage huff in annoyance. He’ll just have to kiss Ben more to shut him up.

It doesn’t help.

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Ben says between kisses. “I never would have guessed.”

Armitage sits back on his heels, arse hovering over Ben’s crotch, and grouses, “I’m an _electrical engineer_ , what did you expect? Blow and orgies?”

Ben snorts and pulls Armitage’s arse down, grinding against him. That beautiful cock is already hard under him, eager and ready to go. Armitage folds back over him, kissing his plush, lovely lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, everywhere he can reach. He murmurs against Ben’s skin, “I should have kissed you at the bar.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not one for anything more than a casual fuck,” Armitage tells him, nipping at his neck. Truthfully, he doesn’t do this, doesn’t invite men into his house for movies and drinks. Any time he involves himself with someone, he goes home with them, never bringing men into his flat in case someone sees.

But Ben is more than just a casual fuck. He could very easily be a friend, someone who knows both sides of him, around whom he does not have to hide bits and pieces of himself. A friend-with-benefits sort of arrangement is perfectly alright with Armitage. It’ll be nice to fuck someone more than once, to intimately learn all about someone for a change.

Ben just goes, “Ah,” neutrally acknowledging Armitage.

Armitage has no idea how to tell Ben that he’s special, a puzzle Armitage desperately wants to solve, kept around because he’s not finished yet. Armitage figures, once this puzzle is solved, things will settle into a comfortable friendship, side by side with Phasma and Mitaka, just with sex as an added bonus. 

“I don’t fuck someone more than once,” he tells Ben. “Yet here we are.”

“Is that supposed to be flattering?”

Armitage pulls away to look Ben in the eye and says, “ _Yes_.”

Ben makes a face.

“It’s really not,” he says.

Hux slumps over him, tucking his face into the crook of Ben’s neck, and sighs.

“Can we just go to my bedroom and take off our clothes?” he asks. Ben snorts and Armitage tacks on, “Hush, just let me fuck you, alright?”

Ben’s breath hitches and Armitage can feel his cock throb under his arse while Ben just nods, struck mute. Armitage kisses his throat, listening as Ben’s breath hitches again. Ben’s hands slide up his back, one going to his shoulder, one going to the nape of his neck, while his chin tilts up. Armitage takes it as an invitation to suck a bruise into his pale skin.

Ben groans and rolls his hips up against Armitage’s. It makes Armitage pull back, saying, “Come on, bedroom. I want to see you naked,” as he climbs off Ben’s lap. Ben’s hands drag over him like they’re begging him to stay, so Armitage grabs hold of one and uses it to pull Ben vertical.

Ben stumbles to his feet, following Armitage as he pulls him towards his bedroom. There, Armitage drops Ben’s hand, going instead to the hem of Ben’s shirt, pressed chest to chest with him.

“Come on, now,” Armitage says. “Take off your clothes.”

“I can’t. You’re kind of in the way.”

Armitage pulls back, hands going to cover Ben’s, fingers sneaking in under the hem of his shirt to get at bare skin. Ben flashes him the slightest smile and peels his shirt over his head.

A glorious, hard muscled stomach is revealed, full pecs with The First Order logo in stark black ink over his heart. Metal bars through his nipples surprise Armitage, pale glittering opal at either end of the bars matching the stone set in the dip of Ben’s upper lip. Armitage reaches out and touches one, fascinated by the hard metal under silky soft skin.

Ben reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes. Armitage traces his fingers down the laser sword etched in red ink on the back of Ben’s forearm, then around the arch of the gear around his elbow.

“You nearly have a full sleeve,” he says. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” is all Ben says, sounding awkward, like he’s not used to the compliment. 

Armitage leans in to kiss him, murmuring, “ _You’re_ beautiful,” against his lips.

Ben doesn’t say anything in reply to that, just kisses Armitage fiercely, hands cupping Armitage’s jaw, holding him in place while he positively devours Armitage mouth first.

Armitage busies his hands, desperately unbuttoning Ben’s jeans to shove them down his thighs, wanting nothing more than to get his hands on that glorious cock. One of Ben’s hands drops to join Armitage’s and together they get Ben’s jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. Ben groans when Armitage grabs hold of him firmly, melting against him.

His cock is hot and hard in Armitage’s grasp, the metal in the tip skin warm against his wrist but steely in opposition of the velvet flesh it’s pierce through, a delicious counterpoint as Armitage strokes him. Ben leans heavily against him, gasping against his cheek as he’s overwhelmed.

“Bed,” Armitage says. Ben just nods and pulls away on shaky legs. Armitage lets go of his cock, palm coming away sticky with precome. He watches as Ben shucks his jeans the rest of the way off his toned legs and stumbles towards the bed. He rolls onto it and spreads out, taking up the entirety of the queen sized mattress, cock jutting up proudly. Armitage just rolls his eyes to keep from staring, stepping towards the side table to click on his lamp and dig for condoms and lube.

Ben watches him as if he’s in a dream, eyes hazy and unfocused. The warm yellow of the light paints him in gold. It’s a beautiful picture, one Armitage works on committing to memory. He’s fucking _gorgeous_ , laying back like he owns this place, cock hard against his hip, metal glinting in his face and chest and cock. 

And Armitage gets to wreck him.

Lube and condom acquired, Armitage climbs between Ben’s spread legs and lays over him, pressing their cocks together as he kisses along Ben’s jaw.

“Can I fuck you?” Armitage asks, voice low, aiming for sensual. Ben shivers under him, his cock twitching as he nods. Armitage pecks him on the lips and pulls away. He trails his hands down Ben’s chest. over his hard stomach, to his cock. He strokes him firmly, making sure he's fully hard. Armitage debates blowing him again but he desperately wants to do it without a condom in the way, wants to feel that metal ring directly on his tongue.

“If this is going to become a thing,” Armitage says, “I would like you to get tested.”

Ben nods again, breath hitching as Armitage strokes him. Armitage thinks he could probably get Ben to agree to anything so long as he has a hand on his cock.

“Do it soon,” Armitage adds. “I want to taste you.”

Ben groans at that, arching up into Armitage’s touch, and it is fucking _beautiful_. Armitage just stares in awe at how unabashed Ben is, so incredibly responsive to anything he does.

Armitage takes his hand away to lube up his fingers. He presses one gently to Ben’s asshole, wrapping the fingers of his off hand back around Ben’s cock.

“Good?” he asks. Ben nods some more, enthusiastic. Armitage presses his finger in, watching Ben’s breath pick up. He’s tense, unbearably tight. Armitage presses his lips against Ben’s crooked up knee, murmuring, “Relax. I’ve got you. Take a deep breath.”

Ben takes a deep, shuddering breath and unclenches. Armitage presses his finger in deeper, searching for Ben’s prostate. When he finds it, Ben’s hips jerk, his cock bobbing in Armitage’s grip. Ben sucks in a sharp breath and breaths out a groan. Armitage kisses Ben’s knee again and says, “Good, just like that.”

Armitage adds a second finger and presses against Ben’s prostate again, savouring the twitch of his hips and his stuttering moan. Armitage’s cock strains at the front of his jeans, so ready to be buried in the tight heat currently surrounding his fingers.

Armitage continues to fuck Ben with his fingers for a good long while, making absolutely sure he’s relaxed and ready to take his cock, Ben hesitantly admitting that it's been a while since the last time he’s had sex ringing in his ears. He wants to suck Ben off while he finger fucks him, wants to make him come from that alone, then make him come again on his cock, but he makes himself wait, promising himself, _soon_.

Ben is practically sobbing from the stimulation to his prostate by the time Armitage pulls his fingers out, deeming him ready. Truthfully, Armitage is getting impatient, achingly desperate to fuck this beautiful boy before him. He yanks his henley over his head, tossing it in the direction of the laundry hamper in the corner, then undoes his jeans just enough to shove them and his underwear down his thighs, freeing his cock to roll a condom down his length.

Pressing in to Ben is… glorious. Ben chokes on air as Armitage slowly sinks into him, fisting his fingers against his open mouth. Armitage strokes him through it, intent on keeping his lovely cock fully hard. Once he bottoms out, he rubs his free hand up and down Ben’s thigh, staying in place to let him adjust. Ben is breathing hard, sucking in great gasping breaths, making Armitage smile and think, _he's going to make himself hyperventilate_.

“Doing alright?” he asks, sounding breathless himself. Ben nods, his hand still pressed to his mouth. Armitage pulls out a smidge and gently presses back in, rolling his hips smoothly, slowly picking up speed and depth with every thrust. He plays with the ring through the head of Ben’s cock, tugging at it lightly, listening to Ben’s breath hitch before he moans, sounding utterly wrecked.

Armitage wants to kiss him but his hand is in the way. He settles instead for wedging Ben’s knees against his shoulders, kissing one as he folds him double, his thrusts long and deep. Ben lets out a tiny little, “Ah,” before whimpering.

Then he sniffles.

Armitage pauses, asking, “Are you… are you _crying_?”

“No,” Ben says immediately, voice breaking. Armitage peers down at him, watching as a single tear slides down Ben’s temple into his hair. Ben sniffles again. _Shit_.

“Did I, am I hurting you?”

“No,” Ben says, shaking his head, talking from behind his hand. “You don't have to stop. I'm _fine_ , it's just my stupid brain freaking out.”

Armitage carefully pulls out, squeezing Ben’s knees reassuringly before letting his legs fall open, limp. Ben hiccups, more tears falling from the corners of his eyes. Armitage flounders. What the fuck is he supposed to do in a situation like this? He’s never had someone he was fucking start _crying_ on him in the middle of sex. Obviously, he needs to do _something_ , so he peels the condom off his softening cock and tucks himself back into his jeans, standing to go search for Millicent.

He hears Ben choke on a sob as he leaves his room, making him walk faster towards Millie’s favourite perch. She's there, curled in the corner of the couch now that it's empty. He scoops her up and hurries back to the bedroom.

Ben has stretched out his legs, but other than that he remains unchanged, shoulders shaking as he cries. Armitage sets Millie’s little feet on Ben’s chest and starts petting her, encouraging her to stay where he's put her. Ben’s breath hitches. He opens his eyes and cranes his head to look down at the twelve pounds of rotund orange tabby on his chest. 

“Did you just… put a cat on me?” Ben asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“Yes,” Armitage replies, on the defensive. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Ben sniffs and shrugs, but one hand comes up to pet Millicent, so Armitage takes that as a win. He climbs over Ben’s legs and settles on the bed next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Do you want to tell me what went wrong?” he asks, trying very hard not to sound accusatory. “I try to not make the same mistake twice.”

“I… it's not you. It's nothing _you_ did,” Ben says. “ _You_ were fine. It's my stupid, fucked up brain that's the problem.”

“Okay,” Armitage says, still confused and concerned but willing drop the subject if Ben doesn't want to supply details. He is not terribly surprised by Ben admitting to having a fucked up brain, given the scars hiding under the ink on his forearm.

Millicent circles Ben’s chest as he pets her, directing his touch where she wants it, purring loud.

“She likes you,” Armitage says. “I guess I'll have to keep you around.”

Ben hiccups a laugh at that. Armitage reaches over to pet his cat as well, scratching her head while Ben rubs her chest.

Eventually, she hops off Ben, wandering towards the foot of the bed where she stops to groom her rear. Ben rolls against Armitage, tucking his face against Armitage’s shoulder. He stays silent, his breathing deep and obviously measured. Armitage still has no fucking idea what to do, but at the very least it seems like Ben has stopped crying.

“Thanks,” he says eventually.

“For what?” Armitage asks. “I made you cry.”

Ben presses his face harder against Armitage’s shoulder, sighing,frustrated.

“It's not _you_ ,” he protests. “It’s just…” He trails off with another sigh. Armitage feels a line of wetness slide across his shoulder. Great. Then Ben starts up again, voice small, saying, “I was molested. For years. It really fucked me up and you're the first person I've been with since I stopped being—” he gestures vaguely with one hand. Armitage rolls onto his side, tucking Ben’s head under his chin, hand in his hair. Ben clutches at him.

“That's fucked up,” Armitage says. It's the only thing he can think of _to_ say.

Ben laughs, small and broken, and says, “Yeah.”

They're silent for a long moment, then Ben says, “Sorry.”

“What for?” Armitage asks. “I'm the one who should be sorry. I took your virginity in a bar toilet and now I've made you cry.” He can't help the tinge of anger creeping into his voice. He's absolutely fucked up. He can't _believe_ himself. How _could_ he?

“I’m not a virgin. I had sex with other kids then. I just—it wasn't _good_. Wasn't _healthy_ ,” Ben says.

“Children having sex is rarely a good thing.”

Ben snorts. “I was fifteen. Fifteen year olds have sex with other fifteen year olds.”

“Oh. Hmm,” Armitage says, having put his foot in his mouth yet again.

Ben nuzzles his neck and says, “Sorry,” again.

Armitage tries a different tactic, telling him, “You don't have anything to be sorry for.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Ben presses closer, like he's trying to crawl into Armitage’s skin with him, smearing more tears against Armitage’s neck. He is, somehow, still hard, his cock pressing against Armitage’s thigh.

“Do you want to continue to have sex with me?” Armitage asks softly, pressing his thigh a little more firmly against Ben’s cock.

“Now?” Ben asks in reply.

“I mean in general, mostly, but…”

Ben rolls his hips against Armitage’s thigh, grinding against him, kissing his throat in answer. Armitage kisses the crown of Ben’s head, holding him tight as Ben fucks against him.

“Let me take care of you,” Armitage says. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Ben shivers and squeezes him in a one-armed bear hug. Armitage can hear the click of Ben’s lip rings against his teeth as he chews on his bottom lip, mulling things over.

“I liked it when you sucked me off,” he says eventually.

“Do you want me to do that again?”

Ben nods. Armitage gently peels Ben off of him, nudging him onto his back before straddling his waist to reach for the condoms again. Then, he starts kissing his way down Ben’s body, pressing his lips to Ben’s, then to his jaw, down his neck, across his chest, to the dip of his navel, until he finally comes face to face with Ben’s cock. He opens the condom and unrolls it down Ben’s length, following his hand with his mouth. Ben groans and arches up, pressing his cock deeper into Armitage’s mouth. Armitage allows it, willing to do anything to make up for the callous way he treated Ben at the bar.

The ring through Ben’s cock head is hard against his tongue, catching against his teeth every time he pulls back to the tip, adding almost a centimeter in length that Armitage doesn’t quite account for. He manages to not gag around Ben, even as Ben shallowly thrusts up into his mouth, but only just barely. Ben’s glorious cock is just this side of monstrous, stretching his lips almost impossibly wide, long and thick and a little too much for Armitage to fit into his mouth all at once. He still sucks down as much of it as he can, using his hand as a buffer to keep Ben from shoving too much down his throat.

Ben keeps choking on his moans, gasping brokenly. Armitage thinks he’s still crying but he doesn’t want to pull away to check. He doesn’t know what he could do even if Ben is still crying but continue to suck him off like Ben asked.

It doesn’t take long for Ben to gasp, “Fuck,” shivering like he’s just come in from the snow. Armitage takes a chance and presses one of his fingers back to Ben’s lube-slick asshole, immediately crooking to push against his prostate. Ben says, “Fuck,” again, keening the word high and sharp as he tries to both buck up into Armitage’s mouth and back onto his finger.

Armitage wants to pull away and croon all sorts of filth to him, telling him to come, telling him how beautiful he looks, how beautiful he sounds, telling him all the terrible things he wants to do to him, to make him feel _wanted_ because Armitage has never wanted anyone so badly. He doesn’t, focusing instead on blowing him with everything he has, milking Ben’s orgasm from him with his fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Armitage,” Ben says, groaning loud and lewd as he comes. Armitage works him through it, pressing his tongue against the underside of Ben’s head where the jewelry pierces skin in time with his finger against Ben’s prostate, only stopping once Ben goes limp, panting and shaking. Only then does Armitage pull away, peppering kisses against Ben’s hip and belly.

Ben sniffs. Armitage looks up to see him dragging the knuckles of one hand against his wet eyes. He can’t help but kiss back up Ben’s body, going after his mouth desperately, like it’s the very air he needs to breathe. Ben kisses him back just as reverently, hands on Armitage’s cheeks.

“Do you want to fuck me again?” Ben asks, voice soft, when Armitage moves to kiss his jaw. He ruts up against Armitage as punctuation, pressing his softening cock against Armitage’s straining erection.

“This isn’t about what I want,” Armitage says.

“I want you to get off too,” Ben, the darling, tells him.

“I can do that in ways besides fucking you.”

Ben presses a firm kiss to Armitage’s cheek and murmurs, “I want you to fuck me.”

Armitage pulls away far enough to look Ben in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, eyes still shining wetly. He pulls Armitage down into another kiss and murmurs, “Please.”

Armitage gives in. He _does_ want to fuck Ben; the five or so minutes he was in Ben before Ben started crying in earnest were amazing. He’s tight and hot and _noisy_ , unabashedly voicing his pleasure. Armitage kisses Ben again, hard, like a promise, before pulling away to dig out a third condom for the night.

“You had _really_ better get tested soon, or else I’m going to make you buy all the condoms,” Armitage teases, covering himself in latex yet again. Ben huffs a laugh as Armitage slicks up his cock as well, pressing his lube covered fingers into Ben again briefly, making sure he’s wet enough before he pushes slowly back into Ben.

Ben groans, throwing his head back. Armitage peels the condom off Ben’s cock and drops it to the floor next to the bed, too intent on stroking Ben’s cock back to hardness, refractory period be damned, to care about making a mess. Ben arches up into his hand, moaning as Armitage steadily fucks him deeper and deeper. He’s still shedding tears, but his hand’s not in the way this time, so Armitage can kiss him continuously, once for every tear that spills over.

By the time Armitage draws close to his orgasm, Ben is shaking, thighs quivering against Armitage’s waist, chest heaving with every breath. His cock is hard again in Armitage’s hand, slick with the last of the come from his orgasm, new precome leaking out around the jewelry in his head. Armitage kisses across Ben’s jaw, down to his neck, to bite down on the juncture of his shoulder. Ben cries out, a sharp, needy, “Fuck,” and, amazingly, dribbles come across Armitage’s fingers.

Armitage pulls away to stare dumbfounded at this wonderful, perfect, gorgeous boy impaled on his cock, everything Armitage could ever want. Ben pulls him back down with shaking hands, gasping against Armitage’s jaw, “Your turn.”

Armitage lets go of Ben's twice-spent cock, grabbing onto Ben's waist with his come-sticky hand, fucking into him with wild abandon. Ben grunts and groans with every thrust, kissing Armitage’s neck and sweetly begging for him to come

“Please,” Ben murmurs, “come for me, fill me up, make me yours.”

Armitage bites down on Ben’s shoulder again, muffling his groan as he does exactly that. Ben jerks and gasps, clutching at Armitage’s shoulders. Armitage pants against Ben’s neck for a long moment after he comes, willing his soul back into his body.

“I’m going to think of this every time I jerk off for the next _forever_ ,” Ben says, huffing a laugh. “ _Damn_.”

“I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed yourself,” Armitage says, somehow sounding snarky even for how breathless he is. Ben laughs a little harder.

Armitage goes to pull away but Ben is stronger, hugging him to his chest. He gives in too easily, wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist as best as he can, pressing soft kisses against Ben’s neck. Ben buries his face in the crook of Armitage’s neck, holding him tight until his breathing evens out.

When Ben’s grip finally relaxes, Armitage finds himself loathe to move, comfortable with his soft cock still buried in Ben’s arse and their arms around each other. He can’t remember the last time he felt this close to someone, warm and content. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” Armitage asks, lips moving against Ben’s neck. He has no idea where the offer comes from.

Ben’s breath hitches before he sighs, “No. I don’t have my meds.”

“Okay,” Armitage says, feeling weirdly disappointed. 

“I should probably leave soon,” Ben continues. “It’s late and I have work tomorrow.”

Armitage nuzzles his neck and says, “Okay,” again.

It takes a long while before Armitage pulls away but Ben doesn’t rush him, his arms loose around Armitage’s waist. Finally, Armitage feels ready to separate himself from Ben, snaking a hand between them to hold onto the condom as he pulls his soft cock free from Ben. Armitage sits back over his heels, tilting his head as he surveys Ben.

Ben looks soft, his face still a little blotchy from his tears, his skin gold from the light of the lamp on the bedside table, his cock limp along his hip bone. Armitage wants to kiss him everywhere. Instead, he focuses on the dried come crusted on Ben’s stomach and on his own fingers and asks, “Would you like to shower with me before you go?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ben says. “That’d be nice.”

Armitage clambers to his feet, peeling this condom off his cock then bending over to pick the other ones off the floor to take them into the loo with them, where there's a garbage bin for proper disposal. Ben follows him, watching as Armitage pulls out a spare towel for him from the hall closet then as Armitage turns on the water in the shower.

“Fair warning,” Armitage says over his shoulder, “I like it hot enough to feel like I'm burning in hell.”

Ben snorts and says, “That's fine. I'll survive.”

He ushers Ben in and as soon as the spray hits him, Ben jerks away and asks, “How the _hell_ do you still have skin?”

Armitage cackles but allows Ben to turn down the temperature, stepping in behind him, his arms automatically wrapping around Ben’s waist. Ben wraps his arms around Armitage’s shoulders in turn. nose against his cheek. They stand under the spray like that for a long while before Armitage pulls away.

“Come on, wash up,” he says, handing Ben his bar of soap. Ben smiles at him, a small, crooked grin, and does what he’s told.

“Is your septum your only mod?” Ben asks, out of the blue. Armitage pauses, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Yes?”

Ben goes, “Hmm,” then says, “I expected more, like tattoos under your clothes or pierced nipples or something.”

Armitage sighs.

“The only reason I had my nose done is because it's easy to hide. Can't do much else without my father being very disappointed.”

“Ah,” Ben says, scrubbing at his stomach, eyes on the floor. “I guess I’m lucky.”

Armitage slides his arms around Ben’s waist, stilling his hands as he pulls him close.

“You really are,” he says. “I am entirely jealous of the relationship you have with your parents.”

It's true; Armitage would kill to be half as accepted by his father as Ben is by his mother. Judging by how Ben snorts, he assumes Armitage is being sarcastic. Armitage kisses him softly, changing the subject by asking, “Are you feeling better?”

Ben smiles against his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

\---

**big bad ben**  
I just got home from armitages.

**Rey**  
gd damn it, ben, it is two in the morning

**big bad ben**  
I told him about snoke.  
He took it ridiculously well.  
I think im in love.  
What the fuck are you even doing up then?

**Rey**  
oh, ben :(  
also, i have this thing, called homework

**big bad ben**  
Why the frowny face?

**Rey**  
you hardly know him  
dont you think its a little soon, for the l word?

**big bad ben**  
Maybe.  
But i cant help how i feel.

**Rey**  
true, but still  
be careful, okay?

\---

Armitage wakes up to Millie screaming for breakfast, his nose pressed into sheets that still somehow smell like Ben. His chest tightens as he remembers last night, kissing Ben’s soft lips, feeling that hard body against him, the readiness with which Ben trusted him. He finds himself wanting Ben there now, to kiss and to hold and to fuck, wondering if this is how all the men he’s fucked and left have felt the next morning.

His alarm goes off and he drags himself out of bed, wandering off nude to the loo to piss before he heads to the kitchen to retrieve Millicent’s food from the top of the fridge. She screams, circling his feet as he walks the three meters between the kitchen and her food bowl. Then he starts he starts his coffee brewing and returns to the loo to shower.

He can’t stop thinking about how softly Ben had kissed him before he left for the night. He can’t stop thinking about Ben gasping _make me yours_. This _thing_ he has going with Ben has become dangerously intimate and Armitage wants more.

\---

It takes two days for Ben’s mom to sit down next to him while he’s reading on the couch, her hand reaching out to prod at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, smiling wryly.

Ben lifts his book to hide his face and says, “No.”

“I heard you’ve been talking with Armitage a lot. Is this true?”

Ben sighs, dropping his book to his lap. Mom pats his thigh and scoots closer, pressing her shoulder against his arm.

“You know you can tell me anything,” she says. “You don’t have to keep who you’re with secret.”

“We’re not _dating_ , we’re just—” Ben breaks off, gesturing with his book, his face hot. He can’t tell his mom he’s just _fucking_ someone.

“Is that what you want out of things?”

Ben’s chest tightens. What did Rey tell his mom? He intentionally takes slow, deep breaths as he shrugs, saying, “I guess.”

Mom snorts, “ _I guess_ is not a good answer, bubbeleh. I’m glad you’ve found someone you’re so _passionate_ about, but don’t you think you might be a little fixated on him?”

“No? I mean, I don’t think so. Maybe on his band? But that’s different.”

His mom perks up, saying, “He’s in a _band_? Benny, are you sure you want to involve yourself with a musician? They don’t make much money, you know, and there’s often drugs in that lifestyle, bad ones, not like yours.”

Ben presses his hands against his face, groaning, “Mom.”

“What? I’m _worried_. You don’t do things like come home in the middle of the night covered in hickies because of a _musician_.”

“I have _one_ hickey!” Ben protests. “And he’s in college too!”

“From the way he talks about it, I get the feeling he doesn’t want to be.”

Ben sighs and slumps, scooting his ass down until it’s barely on the couch so he’s shoulder to shoulder with his mom. He lays his head on her shoulder and she immediately reaches up to pet his hair.

“You can be with whomever you want,” she says. “I just don’t want you to rush into things with the first person who shows you affection.”

“It’s, it’s not like that,” Ben says, thinking, _it’s a little like that_. Armitage is the first person to show any interest in him since the Knights. Even though he’s flippant and callous about things, alternating hot and cold, Ben is still desperate for his attention. He presses the heels of his hands against his stinging eyes, his stupid brain betraying him.

He can’t help sniffing, his nose starting to run even as he tries to force the tears back into his eyes.

Mom kisses the crown of his head, unintentionally mimicking Armitage. It makes things worse, his heart clenching, eyes watering. A tear slips out from under the heel of his palm as Mom asks, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

It _is_. Ben knows it’s probably stupid but he can’t help wanting it, wanting Armitage. He just nods against his mom’s shoulder. She lets him sniffle, pressing her cheek to the top of his head while she pets his hair.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says eventually.

“None of us do, not when it comes to love. We just do what we feel we need to,” she says, her voice taking on the same soothing tone she’d use when he was little. She chuckles a little and adds, “Just look at your father and I.”

Ben heaves a stuttering sigh. Mom kisses the top of his head again.

“You’ll do the right thing,” she says. “You’re smart. You can take care of yourself. Just be sure that this is what you want, alright?”

\---

**big bad ben**  
You fucking traitor!  
You told my mom about armitage.

**Rey**  
you said you love him!  
you told him about snoke!  
thats kind of a big deal, ben

**big bad ben**  
No its not!  
Its just my brain being stupid, okay?

**Rey**  
thats still a big deal

**big bad ben**  
I dont tell luke about you and finn!

**Rey**  
thats because me and finn are normal and boring  
even YOU say youve got a messed up brain  
im just worried about you

**big bad ben**  
Im not fixated on armitage.

**Rey**  
you kind of are, ben  
you talk about him all the fucking time

**big bad ben**  
Maybe thats because i LIKE him!

**Rey**  
dude, look at our text history  
hes ALL youve texted me about, for, like, two months now  
youre kind of fixated

**big bad ben**  
FINE maybe i am.  
You still didnt have to tell my mom.

**Rey**  
im just looking out for you, you asshole  
what happens if you get too intense for him?  
what happens when your brain decides youre suddenly not interested in him anymore?

**big bad ben**  
Then ill deal with it.  
What the fuck ever.  
Itll be FINE.

**Rey**  
dont be an idiot, ben

**big bad ben**  
Im NOT!  
Its just.  
If i think too hard on what could happen i freak out, okay?  
Like, i know this is huge for me.  
It could go wrong in a lot of different ways.  
I KNOW that.  
I still have to TRY.

\---

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Would you like to come out with us to see one of the bands that influences ours?

**Ben the Stalker**  
Sure.  
When?

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Show starts at eight next Thursday but Empire won’t play until ten, so you’ll have plenty of time to arrive after your shift. They’re playing at The Outer Rim.

**Ben the Stalker**  
Okay, cool.  
I’ve never heard of them.

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
If you like us, you’ll like Empire. I’ll link you to their youtube when I get home.

\---

Armitage is right: Ben does like Empire. They’re like The First Order, but bigger, more refined, with a full orchestra instead of just a violin accompaniment. Ben is thrilled to go see them with Armitage.

He has to park on the street three blocks down from the venue, his phone telling him it’s a little past nine-thirty. He texts Armitage _Here_ , half jogging the three blocks to the venue. Armitage is outside by the time he arrives, looking hot as sin leaned up against the wall ten feet from the door, smoking. He raises an eyebrow as Ben slows to a stop in front of him, lips curling up into a smirk as Ben jams his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” Ben says.

“Hullo,” Armitage replies, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. Ben fidgets, eyes drawn to the ground. Armitage’s smirk sharpens before he opens his arms wide and says, “Well, come on, then.”

Ben takes a step forward, then another, until he’s crowding Armitage against the wall. Armitage tucks the fingers of his free hand into one of Ben’s front pockets as he presses his lips against Ben’s cheek. Ben can’t help the doofy grin he feels spread across his face. He places his hands on Armitage’s waist, nosing against his jaw while Armitage rests his cheek against Ben’s neck, taking another drag off his cigarette.

“Thank you for coming out tonight,” Armitage says, voice pitched just for Ben to hear. Ben resists squeezing him to his chest, but only just barely.

“Yeah,” he says in reply. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Armitage kisses his cheek again, then the corner of his jaw, then his neck, before nudging him away. Ben steps back, watching as Armitage drops his cigarette to the ground to grind it out with the toe of his boot.

“Let’s go inside,” he says, taking hold of one of Ben’s hands.

The butterflies overwhelm Ben. He just nods dumbly and follows as Armitage pulls him along to the door of the venue, where loud music pours out. Armitage pulls a printed off ticket out from his back pocket, tilting his head in Ben’s direction, saying, “For him,” while showing the doorman the paper bracelet around his wrist. The doorman takes the ticket and picks up a new paper bracelet, peeling off the sticker backing. Ben raises his free hand, letting the doorman wrap the paper bracelet around his wrist.

She winks at them as they walk through the door, telling them, “Have fun!”

Ben flushes. This feels awfully like a date, even though Armitage didn’t say it was. It feels more like a date then when the two of them went for drinks. It’s the hand holding, he decides.

Inside, Armitage pulls him to where his bandmates sit at a table on the mezzanine in the back. Phasma catches sight of them first, one pale eyebrow raising as a smirk spreads across her face.

“Hullo,” she says, sounding smug, even over the sound of the band playing. 

The First Order’s drummer turns to look at them, perking up as he says, “Oh! It’s you!”

Armitage lets go of his hand to push him towards a chair, leaning in to say into his ear, “Sit. I’ll be right back with drinks.”

Ben sits, folding his hands nervously over the tabletop. Phasma’s smile as she stares him down is predatory. Ben thinks, _this is how I die_.

Then she sing-songs, “Ben and Tidge, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” and sticks her tongue out at him. Ben groans, face going beet red as he drops his forehead down onto the table. Phasma and the drummer cackle.

There’s the clink of a glass being set down on the table next to his head, then a hand smoothing circles against the middle of his back.

“Take off that ridiculous jacket,” Armitage says. “I can hardly touch you with it on.”

Ben sits up, his cheeks still hot, and shrugs out of his jacket. Armitage’s hands are immediately back on him, smoothing across his shoulders then down his spine. The butterflies threaten to consume him from the inside out.

Armitage leans in, telling Ben, “Don't mind Phasma. She likes you well enough. This is Mitaka, by the way.”

The man in question holds out his hand and says, “Dopheld, please. Don’t follow Tidge’s example of only using my last name.”

Ben takes his hand and shakes it firmly, just how his dad taught him. Armitage snorts and slides into the chair next to Ben, telling Dopheld, “Your name is worse than mine.”

Dopheld cackles again and says to Ben, “We bonded over our terrible names first year of university. It’s what brought us together. That and the gay thing. It’s what brought us all together.”

“I am, for the record, aggressively bisexual,” Phasma says, stirring her drink.

“Oh,” Ben says. “Me too.” He glances at Armitage, who’s sipping his drink and watching the band on stage. Ben looks back at Phasma and Dopheld and adds, “I didn’t realize you were like, a queer band. It doesn’t show through in any of your lyrics.”

They look at Armitage then shrug as Armitage says, “There’s much more interesting things to write about than being queer.”

“Being queer goes hand in hand with being political, and you do that,” Ben says, eyebrows furrowed.

“We have songs we don’t play at shows,” Phasma says. “We just don’t want to be shoehorned into being a gay band.”

“Ah.” Ben supposes that makes sense.

The band on stage finishes their set. Armitage stares enraptured as Empire sets up, half a dozen musicians spacing themselves out on stage. Ben is a little startled by one of Armitage’s hands finding his thigh under the table, resting comfortably on his knee. Ben distracts himself by eating the cherries out of the shirley temple Armitage brought him, face flushed.

Empire starts their set at precisely ten o’clock, going at it hard and loud. They’re even better in person, commanding the attention of the room in much the same way The First Order does. Ben is only familiar with a couple of their songs, but he’s captivated by what they play. The First Order sits serenely at their table with him, like they’re at the opera instead of a grungy punk show, but Armitage taps his fingers in time with the music against Ben’s knee.

Almost forty-five minutes later, Ben is ready to fucking go. He feels invigorated, like he could smash the sun out of the very sky. He hasn’t felt like this in ages; The First Order’s shows are too familiar after two years of seeing them, comfortable like coming home after a long day at work. This is exciting as hell.

After Empire finishes playing, Armitage leans in and murmurs in his ear, “Come home with me.”

Ben just nods dumbly, _happily_. Hell yes, he’ll go home with Armitage tonight, _any_ night. The sultry lilt to Armitage’s voice promises everything Ben could ever imagine and more, anticipation going straight to his dick.

“Good,” Armitage says, squeezing his knee before pecking him on the cheek. Then he pulls away completely, hand on the table top as he finishes his drink. Ben sucks down the last of his watery shirley temple, chasing the final cherry lost under the ice around with his straw. Armitage’s face is turned away from him, towards the now empty stage, but Ben can just see the edge of his smile. The butterflies are back, building his elation over top of the post show mania.

Ben stands when Armitage does, follows him out like a loyal dog, walks him to his car. Ben crowds him against the door, holding Armitage’s cheeks in his hands to pepper his face with kisses. Armitage snorts and struggles, batting him away, but the grin on his face betrays him. Ben presses in close, tucking his cheek against Armitage’s.

“I had a great time,” he says seriously.

“Good. I’m glad,” Armitage says, kissing his cheek. “Now let me go so we can go back to my flat and have a _good time_.”

Ben laughs, giddy, and tells him, “That’s a _terrible_ line and you should be _ashamed_.”

“It’s not terrible if it works.”

Ben laughs some more, nuzzling his nose against Armitage’s cheek, absolutely over the moon. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing but at least it’s turning out alright, Armitage seeming as pleased with Ben as Ben is stupid for Armitage. In this moment, he is absolutely convinced that he’s made the right choice, that all his fears are unfounded.

“Come on, love,” Armitage murmurs into his ear. “Let’s meet back at mine, alright? Let me take care of you.”

Ben nods, grinning, and pulls away, hands dragging around Armitage’s body as he steps back, Ben unwilling to stop touching him until he absolutely has to.

“Race you there,” he says.

Armitage laughs, “Ben, no. Drive like a sane person, please. I want you there in one piece.”

Driving is objectively terrifying, so in truth Ben drives like a grandmother. Not his grandmother, but in general. He grins wider and says, “No promises.”

Armitage snorts and slaps Ben’s shoulder.

“Go, idiot. I’ll see you there.”

Ben takes a few steps backwards, watching Armitage climb into his car, a small smile on his lips to match Ben’s broad grin. Once Armitage is in his car, Ben turns and jogs the three blocks back to his own car.

He arrives at Armitage’s building in one piece, just as requested, bouncing down the stairs to his door. Armitage is just opening it. Ben immediately plasters himself against Armitage’s back, arms going around his waist. He presses kisses against the back of Armitage’s neck.

“Hold _on_ ,” Armitage says. “A few more seconds won’t kill you.”

Armitage swings the door open and the two of them stumble inside. Ben laughs as Armitage accidentally slams the door closed after them, sounding completely un-sorry as he goes, “Oops.”

He’s once again on Armitage as soon as the door is locked, pushing him against the wall, kissing him like his life depends on it, which it might. Armitage kisses back eagerly, sucking on Ben’s lower lip. Ben opens his mouth and Armitage’s tongue immediately dives in. Ben groans, giving as good as he gets, pressing forward to lick at Armitage’s teeth. He rolls their hips together, groaning again at the friction against his hardening dick.

Armitage pulls his face away to pant into Ben’s ear, his hands sliding down Ben’s back to grab at his ass. Ben kisses Armitage’s cheek instead, his jaw, his neck, anywhere he can reach. He tugs the collar of Armitage’s shirt out of the way to reveal more skin, biting at his collar bone. Armitage’s breath hitches. Ben feels unbelievably powerful.

He drops to his knees, pushing Armitage’s shirt up to kiss at his belly with one hand while he fights to open Armitage’s jeans with the other. Armitage just stares down at him, lips parted, and runs his fingers through Ben’s hair.

Ben gets Armitage’s jeans open and presses his lips to the front of his boxers, mouthing at the hard ridge of his cock. Armitage gasps as Ben digs in his pocket for the condom he stashed there before the show. He pulls it out with one hand as he peels Armitage’s boxers down with the other.

Like this, he doesn’t care that Armitage hasn’t shown him a clean bill of health. Armitage’s cock is bare before him, hard and gorgeous and _right in front of his face_. Ben wants to just suck him down, to taste him, but whatever little bit of intelligence he has left reminds him that Armitage wants to use condoms until they get tested, so he unwraps one and rolls it down Armitage’s beautiful cock. _Then_ he can allow himself to wrap his lips around Armitage’s cockhead.

Armitage knocks his head back against the wall and groans, his fingers tightening in Ben’s hair. Ben bobs his head, swallowing down more of Armitage, sucking hard.

“Look at you,” Armitage murmurs. “My beautiful boy.”

Ben’s heart soars. He doubles his efforts, doing everything he can to make Armitage come, sucking and licking at Armitage’s cock with wild abandon. Armitage’s hand on the back of his head should make his anxious, but he doesn’t push Ben at all, just holds on while Ben does what he wants.

And fuck, does he want Armitage in his mouth. He fills him up so nicely, thick and hot against his tongue. Ben draws in more, until his jaw is stretched wide and he’s almost gagging, wanting nothing more than to please Armitage. He squeezes Armitage’s hips with one hand, sliding his fingers up under his shirt, desperate for every bit of contact he can manage.

Armitage gasps a tiny _ah_ as Ben’s tongue circles his head before Ben pulls back to kiss the tip of his dick, hand stroking Armitage off in place of his mouth. Ben pants against Armitage’s cock, hard and out of breath. Armitage pets his head.

“You sweet thing,” he says, voice soft as he runs his fingers through Ben’s hair. “You’re so good to me.”

Ben just smiles up at him, the tip of Armitage’s hard on resting against his lips.

Armitage nudges him back and slides down the wall, coming to sit in Ben’s lap, his cock hard against Ben’s stomach. Armitage pulls their faces together, kissing him, tongue diving into Ben’s open mouth. He reaches down between them to rub at Ben’s hard on, smirking against Ben’s mouth as he groans.

“That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

Armitage guides Ben’s head to his shoulder, holding him close as he strokes Ben off through his jeans. Ben wraps his arms around Armitage’s waist and rubs his nose against Armitage’s neck.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” Armitage asks. Ben nods then automatically clutches at Armitage as Armitage pulls away. He laughs softly and promises, “I’m not going far.”

Ben lets go of Armitage and leans back, watching as Armitage unfolds. Once standing, Armitage offers him a hand, pulling Ben up next to him. He pecks Ben quickly on the lips.

“Take off your shoes, please,” he says. “Then we can go to bed.”

Ben bends over to unlace his Docs, untying them on autopilot. Armitage does the same, wobbling slightly on one foot as he crosses the other over his knee to yank off his boot. He sets it by the wall with his other shoes and starts on the other as Ben steps out of his, leaving them piled on the floor.

“There,” Armitage says once he’s done. He takes Ben’s hand and pulls him towards the bedroom, his jeans slowly slipping down his hips.

Once in his bedroom, Armitage starts stripping, peeling his shirt off over his head. Ben watches the shift of his scapula in the half light of the street lamp outside the window as he tosses his shirt towards the laundry basket in the corner. He’s absolutely stunning, slim and solid with the tiniest bit of softness. Ben wants to kiss him all over, wants to bite him and mark him and _have him_.

 

Armitage looks over his shoulder and smiles, saying, “Come on, you too.”

Ben comes up behind Armitage and kisses the back of his neck, placing his hands over Armitage’s while he pushes his jeans down his thighs. Armitage presses his ass against Ben’s hard on as he bends over to get his jeans off. Ben groans and squeezes his hips, pulling Armitage harder against him.

Armitage straightens up, leaning his head back against Ben’s shoulder.

“Do you want to fuck me this time?” he asks.

Ben nuzzles his shoulder, answering without thinking, “Hell yes.”

Armitage laughs. Ben can feel it rumble through his chest and it makes him feel so, so warm. This is what sex is supposed to feel like: warm and uplifting and _fun_. He feels cared for, safe, like he’s wanted for himself instead of what he could be, what he represents. He has no idea how; it was what, four weeks ago when Armitage blew him in the bathroom and refused to kiss him? Admitting to his past, as terrifying as it was to do so, changed everything for the better.

He is absolutely, one hundred percent head over heels in love with Armitage.

Armitage turns, staying pressed up against Ben, until they're chest to chest and nose to nose. He slides his hands under Ben’s shirt, rucking it up higher and higher, smirking, until Ben is forced to take it off. Then he’s back on Ben’s mouth, kissing him hard while he unbuttons Ben’s jeans. He gets Ben’s dick out, stroking it firmly from root to tip, fingers playing over the ring in the head. Ben moans against Armitage’s lips, shivering. His hand feels so good on Ben’s cock, warm and sure, confident yet _caring_.

“Please,” Ben whispers against the corner of Armitage’s mouth. He can feel Armitage smile.

“Soon, love. Very soon, promise.”

Armitage ducks his head to bite at Ben’s shoulder, sucking a bruise into his skin as he strokes Ben’s cock. He has his arm wrapped tight around Ben’s waist like he's desperate to keep him close. Ben clutches Armitage’s shoulders, nose pressed against his neck, gasping and moaning.

“You're so lovely,” Armitage tells him, kissing at the hickey he left, soothing away the sting from his teeth. “So gorgeous, and all mine, aren't you?”

Ben nods, his chest tightening. The note of possession makes Ben’s anxiety flair, but it's said so softly, like Ben _could_ argue, could make it a point that he’s his own person. Ben wants to think it’s said the same way his parents send valentines to each other, asking _be mine_ even after all these years.

“Are you doing alright?” Armitage asks, hand slowing on Ben’s cock.

Ben nods automatically then pauses, wanting to be truthful. _Is_ he alright? He’s hard and wanting and _so ready_ but…

He nuzzles Armitage’s neck and murmurs, “Just nervous, I think.”

Anxiety is nothing new for Ben; he's anxious every day, breathing through panic attacks at the smallest change. This is big and scary and he wants it _so much_.

Armitage kisses his shoulder, squeezing Ben tight to his chest, and says, “Okay.”

Then he says, “You know I won't hurt you, right?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, comfortable and _safe_ in Armitage’s one-armed embrace.

“I won't do anything you don't want me to,” Armitage promises. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

Armitage is just as hard as Ben, his latex wrapped dick throbbing against Ben’s hip. He hasn't pressed for friction, seemingly content to let Ben run the show. 

Ben nudges him back, reluctantly parting, and says, “Bed. I want to fuck you.” And then, because he can't help himself, Ben tugs Armitage back in for a kiss, hands on his cheeks, murmuring against his lips, “Please let me fuck you.”

“Of course, love,” Armitage says, smiling. “If that's what you want.”

Ben pushes him gently, anxious to get into bed, _ready_. Armitage breathes a laugh and turns away from Ben, walking the three feet to the bed, kneeling on it.

“I expect you want to be face to face,” Armitage teases, looking over his shoulder.

Ben nods and breathes, “Yeah.” He wants to be able to look at Armitage, to see him gasp and pant as Ben fucks him. Anything else is too close to bad memories he's not ready to face yet, memories he may never want to face.

Armitage lays down, sprawled out lazily, one hand relaxed against the bed sheets while the other rests on his chest. His legs are parted, bent at the knee, inviting Ben in. Ben shoves his jeans off over his feet and crawls between Armitage’s legs, wanting. He smooths his hands down Armitage’s thighs.

“Lube?” he asks, proud of the way his voice doesn't shake. Armitage twists, leaning towards the side table to pull out his bottle of lube and a condom. He hands them off to Ben with a smile. Ben's heart clenches. The butterflies are devouring his insides.

Ben unrolls the condom down his aching cock then slicks himself up with the lube.

“Do you, do you want me to finger you?” Ben asks. He hasn't ever been on this end of sex. He has hardly half a clue of what he's supposed to do.

Armitage laughs softly though, saying, “It's fine, you can go ahead and just stick it up there. I’ve had a lot more practice at this than you.”

Ben nods and tucks Armitage’s knees against his shoulders, hand on his dick to guide himself in. Armitage takes slow, deep breaths, relaxed under Ben. There's still resistance as Ben presses in, Armitage so tight as Ben’s cock breaches him.

“Fuck,” Armitage gasps, breathless. Ben nods dumbly, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Ben goes slow, the same way Armitage had pressed into him last time. It’s agonizing. He just wants to _go_ , to feel that tight heat all around him as he moves. He knows how much that sucks though, so he goes slow.

He bottoms out and bends Armitage in half to press a kiss to his lips. Armitage spreads his legs to let Ben in, laughing softly, and Ben somehow slides in even deeper. Ben doesn't much manage to kiss Armitage. Instead, he pants against the corner of Armitage’s mouth, overwhelmed.

“Better than your hand, hmm?” Armitage teases, somehow still sounding composed even with a dick up his ass. Ben nods, his face mashed against Armitage’s, and Armitage laughs, “You can move, you know.” 

Ben refuses to sit up, wanting to be as close to Armitage as he can manage. He tucks his face against Armitage’s shoulder and starts moving, slowly at first, gently, just rolling his hips against Armitage’s.

Armitage punches him in the shoulder lightly, then kisses him on the cheek and says, “Fuck me like you mean it. My arse isn't going to break if you're the slightest bit rough.”

Ben loves how he says it: _arse_ , the a drawn out. It's cute, almost, or sexy; Ben can't decide which, but he loves it. Loves _him_.

He has to bite his tongue to keep from saying it, unsure if he truly does or if it's just his brain overwhelming him. Instead, he presses kisses against Armitage’s throat, fucking into him harder, just as demanded. Armitage gasps with every inward thrust, sharp little _ah_ s that Ben savours.

Armitage laughs breathlessly as he says, “Sit up a little, let me get at my cock.”

Ben just doubles down, squeezing Armitage tighter to him, his perfect cock pressed against Ben’s stomach.

“Ben,” Armitage says, so very sweetly, “I’ll cuddle you as much as you want after, just let me come.” He pats Ben’s shoulder and adds, “Come on, up.”

Ben peels himself away, kissing every inch of Armitage he can reach before it's too late. He hovers over Armitage, hands planted by Armitage’s shoulders. Armitage smiles and reaches up to touch Ben’s cheek.

“There,” he says. “That wasn’t too hard, hmm?”

The change in position has Ben able to make longer strokes, pulling out farther before pushing back in deeper. He watches as Armitage reaches for his dick with one hand. The other is still on Ben’s cheek, fingers tangled with his wild hair. He wants to shake his hair out of his eyes, or tie it back out of the way, but he doesn’t want to pull farther away from Armitage than he has to.

Like he’s reading Ben’s mind, Armitage tucks a stray strand of hair behind Ben’s ear.

“So lovely,” Armitage croons. “My handsome boy.”

Ben moans. He wants to drop back down, to tuck his head under Armitage’s chin and feel all of Armitage pressed tight to him, but he _can’t_. That’s not what Armitage wants, so Ben just fucks him harder, desperate for his orgasm so he can curl up against Armitage and touch him everywhere.

Armitage gasps under him, knuckles bumping Ben’s stomach as he jerks off in time with Ben’s frantic thrusting. He keeps clenching around Ben, his toes curling against Ben’s hips. Ben can’t help but drop down enough to press his lips against Armitage’s, gently kissing him.

“Please come,” Ben whispers against the corner of Armitage’s mouth.

“I’m getting there,” he says in reply, huffing a laugh. “Sit up again. All the way. I want you deep.”

Ben kisses him one more time, firmly, before doing as he’s told. Armitage gasps and groans at the change in angle, head loling as his hand speeds up. Ben grabs hold of his thighs, pulling Armitage’s legs tight against his waist.

“There,” Armitage moans. “Come on, keep going.”

Ben fucks him harder, trying his best to keep up with Armitage’s hand, eyes glued to the sight before him. Armitage looks incredible, flushed and panting, completely relaxed under Ben, rocking with Ben’s thrusts. He’s beautiful, fucking gorgeous, and he’s like this because of Ben.

_This is how sex should be,_ Ben thinks again, in awe as Armitage arches as he comes.

Ben fucks him through it, pressing in as deep as he can, only stopping once Armitage sighs and relaxes. Then he pulls out and strips off the condom, dropping it over the side of the bed to the floor. He expects Armitage to scold him for it, given how fastidious he is about the way he keeps things, but he doesn't. He just smooths his hands over Ben’s forearms, the only bit of Ben he can reach.

“Let me see you come,” Armitage says. Ben lets Armitage’s legs slide away from him and awkwardly climbs over them to straddle Armitage’s hips. Armitage smiles and pets Ben's thighs, saying, “Come on, come for me. Please.”

Ben strokes off over him, hand moving fast over his dick, fingers bumping and pulling on his piercing as he goes. He can just barely see Armitage’s dick past is own, soft along his hip, his come spattered up across his stomach. _He_ did that. He made Armitage come. Armitage wants him to come too. They're having sex, great sex, where he feels wanted and cared for.

He’s having sex with someone he _loves_.

His breath picks up for reasons other than his impending orgasm. His _stupid_ brain is overwhelmed, his chest swelling to bursting with feelings. The butterflies turns to wasps, buzzing around his insides, making him almost sick. His eyes burn as he pants, hard, quick, shallow breaths.

“Come on, love. You're almost there, I can tell,” Armitage says. “Please come.”

Ben does, his eyes welling over as he adds to the mess across Armitage’s stomach. He sobs with relief as his orgasm crashes over him, tears dripping from his eyes. His heart hurts, desperate for affection from Armitage.

Armitage strokes his thigh and asks, “Are you crying again?”

He’s not mean about it, sounding concerned. Ben just nods and sniffles, shaking. He _hates_ that he’s crying this time too. Things were going _so well_ ; he doesn’t understand. He’s just so overwhelmed by his feelings for Armitage he just… can’t anymore.

“Do I need to get my cat again?” Armitage asks, smiling at him, even though it’s a little strained.

Ben huffs a laugh as he shakes his head no and finally topples over, pressing his forehead against Armitage’s shoulder, a leg and an arm draped over him posessively. Armitage reaches up to brush Ben’s hair out of his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Armitage asks. _Is_ Ben alright? The obvious answer is no, considering the crying that still hasn’t fucking stopped, but that’s not quite true.

“My brain’s just fucked up,” Ben tells him, because he can’t say he’s crying because he loves Armitage so much it hurts. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s just worrisome.” Armitage presses a kiss to the top of Ben’s head.

“It’s just,” Ben starts, then stops, deciding to take a different route. “I like having sex with you. It’s _good_ , so good it overloads my brain. I’ve got—I’m not so good at regulating emotions, good or bad, so fucking _everything_ makes me cry when it gets to be too much. It’s fucking _awful_.”

“Yeah, that does sound terrible.”

“I’m sorry I keep crying on you,” Ben says, wanting to rub his face against Armitage’s shoulder but not wanting to wipe snot on him.

“It’s—” Armitage pauses, then says, “I wish you wouldn’t, because it makes me think I’ve hurt you. I don’t want to push you farther than you’re willing to go.”

Ben can understand that. He’s maybe a little too willing to do whatever Armitage wants, going along with things without thinking of what _he_ wants.

He appreciates the fuck out of the fact that Armitage only wants enthusiastic consent though.

“I trust that you won’t,” Ben tells him. 

He feels Armitage nod before Armitage says, “Right. Well, I’m going to go get cleaned up. Would you like to shower with me?”

Ben nods and sniffles. His eyes are drying now that he’s coming down from the endorphin rush of sex, feeling at ease because he can just _talk_ to Armitage about his issues and Armitage is incredibly chill about it. He can’t believe he was lucky enough for this to happen; for Armitage to show interest in his loser self, for Armitage to be so _accepting_ of his fucked up brain.

“You’re going to have to let me up,” Armitage says, voice warm and teasing. Ben presses his face harder against Armitage’s shoulder for a moment before pulling away, rolling onto his back next to Armitage. Armitage sits up halfway, propped up on his elbows, and looks Ben over. Ben thinks Armitage looks gorgeous, a small smile tilting his lips, his hair a mess, come pooling on his belly. He can only guess what Armitage thinks of him.

Armitage prods him in the side and says, “Come on, let’s go,” before he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. Ben groans and follows him.

This time, Armitage only turns the water on just on the other side of burning, hot enough to sting but not hot enough to melt skin. Ben mostly just leans against Armitage’s back as Armitage scrubs the half dried come off his stomach, cheek pressed against the slope of Armitage’s shoulder.

Then Armitage turns around and soaps up Ben’s chest, hands sliding over his pecs and down his stomach to his dick without a word. Ben gasps as Armitage strokes his soft cock, teasing like he wants another round. Ben drops his head to Armitage’s shoulder, arms around Armitage’s waist. The gentle touch sends a new wave of arousal through Ben, soft and sleepy this time instead of desperately manic. It’s nice.

Then Armitage slides his hands back up Ben’s chest and over his shoulders.

“Can you stay this time?” Armitage asks at the same time Ben blurts out, “I have my meds.”

There’s a pause before Armitage starts laughing, soft and happy. He presses a kiss just below Ben’s ear and says, “Stay, please.”

“Okay.”


	4. is this love real or is it just madness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourself for _feeeeeeeels_

Ben snores. It’s the first thing Armitage notices about waking up next to him in the morning. Ben is face down, one arm tucked against his ribs, the other thrown over his head, a knee hitched up. He’s facing Armitage, like he spent the night watching Armitage sleep and has only now fallen asleep himself.

And he _snores_. Not loud, just enough to be noticable, his inhales buzzing through his nose. Armitage finds himself thinking it’s endearing. Worse than that, he finds he thinks waking up next to someone he’s slept with is brilliant, warm and cozy. He’s loathe to leave his bed, to move, to do anything other than scoot closer to Ben and press a kiss to his shoulder.

Ben doesn’t move, so Armitage kisses him again, moving across the back of his shoulder, until Ben makes a sleepy sound and shifts. It’s unbelievably cute how Ben mumbles, “Jus’ wanna sleep,” into the pillow, turning his head to hide his face.

“Come on, now, there are better things we could be doing,” Armitage says, moving closer to Ben until his erection presses against Ben’s hip.

Ben turns his head back and peers at him with one brown eye. He says, “You’re insatiable.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Armitage says, with feeling. “You’re gorgeous, naked, and in my bed. What did you expect?”

The corner of Ben’s mouth ticks up at the compliment. Armitage presses another kiss to his shoulder, arm wrapping across his back to pull them together.

“There’s no better way to end our date than being able to see you come the morning after you spend the night in my bed for the first time,” Armitage tells him, unsure if the thought is even coherent. It’s too early—Millie hasn’t even started her morning song and dance for food yet—but Ben _is_ gorgeous and naked and right there next to Armitage in bed.

Judging by the grin the blooms across Ben’s face at that, he was coherent enough.

“I suppose,” Ben says, rolling onto his side under Armitage’s arm, “since you asked so nicely and all.”

Armitage just kisses him, realizing a beat too late how _soft_ he had sounded, calling their night out a _date_. He thought he was over putting his foot in his mouth around Ben but apparently not. This is just sex, he reminds himself. And casual dates. They’re not in a _relationship_ or anything.

Ben smiles between every kiss, hands running across Armitage’s skin like he can’t get enough of him.

“You lovely, gorgeous, wonderful boy,” Armitage says, unable to help showering Ben in compliments. Ben pulls Armitage against him. The display of strength makes Armitage gasp as much as the feel of Ben’s hot, hard cock against his own. Ben rolls onto his back, taking Armitage with him. Their legs tangle, cocks pressed together, Armitage’s elbows bracketing Ben’s ribs. Armitage nudges his forehead against Ben’s, laughing at him.

Ben just grins, warm and happy, and Armitage thinks, _Whatever did I do to deserve this?_ He can tell Ben is smitten with him. Armitage can only hope word doesn't get back to his father. The last thing he wants to do is break the heart of this beautiful boy.

Ben grabs his arse, encouraging Armitage to rut against him. It feels better than it should, simply grinding against each other, but Armitage can feel the ring of Ben’s piercing pressing into his stomach and the way Ben’s cock twitches with stimulation as they move and it is so, so nice. Armitage tucks his face against Ben’s neck and Ben kisses his temple, hands sliding over his back.

This might be the most perfect morning Armitage has ever experienced.

\---

Ben stayed for breakfast, eating cold cereal on the floor in front of Armitage’s coffee table, laughing at the sad state of Armitage’s empty fridge. He seemed so at ease in Armitage’s apartment then, so different from the first time he was over for movies. Armitage wonders what changed.

What the fuck changed? What is it about Ben that draws Armitage to him like a moth to a flame? He’s bouncing off the glass of a lightbulb, desperate to get closer.

Ben is sweet, sure, but Armitage has fucked sweet boys before. Ben is pretty, Ben is willing, Ben is feisty; Armitage has had all that before. Ben is sad, and broken, and _strong_ , wary around strangers but fiercely kind once he’s decided he likes someone, once he decided he likes Armitage. He powers through things Armitage can’t even begin to imagine. He’s fucked up and _trying so hard_.

He’s endlessly fascinating.

\---

Armitage hesitates Saturday morning when his routine dictates that it’s time to wash his sheets. It’s stupid; he can’t actually smell Ben on them anymore but for some reason his hindbrain thinks if he tries hard enough he could. He scowls and yanks his bedding off anyway.

\---

The book Ben had told him about pops up in his Amazon recommended items. He buys it on a whim—he needs a break from reading textbooks. It's absolutely not so he can see Ben’s face light up when he tells him he’s reading it.

\---

Armitage can’t help but remember the sweet way Ben had kissed him against his car door Thursday night after Empire’s show. He had been _so excited_ , endlessly happy. It had made Armitage grin then and it makes him grin now remembering, a stupid smile he can’t manage to shake off.

\---

Phasma gives him a look when he enters their cramped practice space. He’s wound tight, TV static wrapped in a human shell. It’s only been two days and he wants to see Ben again and he _can’t_. They have their own lives and his is here, in their practice space, with his band and their music, like every Sunday afternoon.

Armitage ignores her in favour of retrieving his violin. She doesn’t press him and soon they fall into form, playing for a crowd of their own imagining. 

He lets his mind wander while his fingers hit their notes, as he always does when they’re just running through instrumentals. It’s soothing, having a bow in hand and strings under his fingers. He’s done this for ages, even if now he plays melodies of his own backed with angry drums and soul-searing bass.

He wonders how Ben would react to seeing him play something classical. He’s sure he still remembers the Mozart and Beethoven drilled into him.

Armitage fumbles his fingering, his violin discordant. He pauses. He can’t _believe_ he fucked up. Phasma and Mitaka play on and after a beat Armitage returns, falling back into rhythm.

He’s not sure if Ben has guessed he's the one to play the violin in their tracks. It could be nice playing for him. They could order take away and he could play something beautiful for Ben and Ben would _look_ at him with his soulful eyes, bright with wonder, and then they could fuck and Armitage just _knows_ Ben would let him do anything after an evening spent together like that.

His bow slips in his fingers, his violin creaking under the sound of Phasma’s bass and Mitaka’s drums. _Fuck_. He wants to throw his violin, wants to throw a tantrum like a petulant child, frustrated that he’s not perfectly hitting his notes. He _should_ be perfect; this should be second nature for him.

He takes a deep breath, adjusts his fingers, and starts again.

The third time Armitage fucks up, he's thinking of the way Ben had gasped and shuddered under him as he came Friday morning. It truly was the perfect way to end their night together.

But Armitage’s fuck up makes Phasma pause her own playing to say, “What the fuck, Tidge?”

Mitaka stops as well, their practice room suddenly filled with deafening silence. Armitage just pulls his violin out from under his chin, lips pressed tight together as he gently tucks it away and slams the case closed.

“I'm going out for a cigarette,” he says, avoiding looking at his band mates. 

“Okay,” Phasma says slowly. Armitage can see her pull the strap of her bass over her head out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll just take a break then.”

Armitage can't get out of the room fast enough, can't get out of the _building_ fast enough. The ride in the elevator down two floors is torturous, Armitage’s thoughts crowding him in the small space. At least out on the stoop with a fag between his lips he can _focus_ , sucking down nicotine rhythmically.

He does not think of Ben.

He does not think of Ben’s long, hard body stretched out in Armitage’s bed like he belongs there.

He does not think of the way the morning sunlight coming through the window had painted Ben’s body gold.

He does not think of the small, crooked smile that blesses Ben’s soft mouth every time he looks at Armitage.

He does not think of tousled black hair curling around too big ears or strong arms or thick thighs or a glorious cock with a ring shining through the head.

He _doesn't_.

He's on his third cigarette by the time Phasma comes down and sits next to him on the stairs. She knocks her knuckles against his shoulder and asks, “What the fuck is up with you today, butterfingers?”

Armitage ashes his cigarette with a hard flick, scowling. He's loathe to admit the truth but Phasma is his best mate. She'll see straight through him if he tries to lie.

“Ben stayed the night Thursday,” he says, eyes firmly on the sidewalk in front of him.

Phasma snorts and says, “I see.”

“Don't _laugh_ , you arse,” Armitage snaps. “This is a problem. This was supposed to be a casual fuck. I don't want him to get _attached_.”

“Would that really be a bad thing?” Phasma asks, tilting her head.

“ _Yes_ ,” Armitage hisses. “You don't understand. He's…” Armitage doesn't want to tell her the secrets Ben trusted him with but they're at the front of his mind, on the tip of his tongue as an explanation of just how careful he has to be.

“In love with you?”

Armitage balks. “What? _No_ , he barely knows me. No, he's depressed or something, I don't know. He mentioned medication as the reason he doesn't drink. I dont, I _can't_ let this go on much longer or my father will be bound to hear about it and _that_ will be a complete shitshow.

“It's bad enough that he’s a man; him being Organa’s son makes it so much fucking worse.” Armitage gestures with his mostly burnt cigarette, making a disgusted noise before continuing, “And Ben, Ben is so _sheltered_. His parents let him get away with practically whatever. There's no way he’d understand things with my father. I just, I _can't_.”

Phasma is silent for a long moment as Armitage sucks hard on his cigarette. Eventually, she says, “But you don't want to end things.”

Armitage stabs what's left of his cigarette against the concrete next to him. _Fucking_ Phasma. He moves to light up another and she places her hands on top of his.

“No,” he admits after she stares him down. “I don't.”

“Why not just let yourself be happy for once?”

Armitage scoffs and lights the cigarette. He exhales and says, casual as can be, “My father won't let me.”

“I'd say your father can suck a dick, but that's your job, isn't it?”

That surprises laughter out of him. Phasma thumps him on the back twice, hard enough for it to echo in his ribs.

“Just… try, okay?” she says. “Apart from today’s fuck-ups, you’re doing better than I’ve seen in a long while.”

\---

Ben is giddy, jiggling one leg as he sits in the waiting room of Sonya’s office. He has _so much_ to talk about today. _So much_ has happened since the last time he saw her.

He’s on his feet as soon as she opens the door.

“You’re eager,” she teases as she holds the door open for him. He squeezes past her into the hall, half a step in front of her as they walk towards her office. She asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he says pretty much immediately. He _is_. Only good things have happened recently.

They sit and Sonya rests her chin on her fist as she waits for him to open up.

“We went on a date,” Ben blurts. “He called it a date.”

Sonya grins. “That’s great! I’m proud of you.” Then she tilts her head a little and says, “That’s quite a big step up from last time.”

“Yeah. I—” Ben pauses and wets his lips. “I told him about Snoke.”

“Ah,” is all Sonya says, prompting Ben to continue.

“We had sex,” he says. “Real sex, in a bed and everything, and I started fucking _crying_. I had to tell him _something_.”

Sonya nods and asks, “Why do you think you cried?”

“I mean, at first he was like, ‘I don’t fuck people more than once, but yet here I am, fucking you again’ and that _hurt_ , like, I still don’t know if that meant he _liked_ me or if he was just using me, but he’s just _so_ pretty and he was kissing me and then he was like, ‘just let me fuck you’ and I _couldn’t_ say no.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.” Ben runs his fingers through his hair, pressing his forearms against his temples. He continues, “It kind of felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not, not because I thought Armitage wouldn’t take no for an answer, but because of my body.” He squeezes his head between his arms, his elbows hiding Sonya from view. “It felt like I was falling at terminal velocity and my options were to open the ‘chute or _die_ so I opened the ‘chute. If, if that makes sense.”

He can hear Sonya typing as he talks.

“I was just, just so _ready_ for it, physically. I thought my brain would catch up.”

“Did it?”

Ben sighs and drops his hands back to his lap. He says, “No.”

“So you cried.”

“Yeah.” Ben sighs again. “It was just. It was _so much_ , good because it was with someone I liked but fucking _terrifying_ because I haven’t done anything like that since, since _then_ , and I just…” He can feel the panic rising in him just _thinking_ of how that first time felt. He presses his hands against his face and focuses on his breathing for a long moment. Sonya lets him, doesn’t push as he works to calm down so he _can_ talk about things.

After a long moment, he continues. “And Armitage was just _so sweet_ about it.” He laughs, a strained, breathy chuckle. “I mean, sorta. He tried. He put his cat on me, as a distraction, I guess, and then laid there with me while I tried to calm down and didn’t do any of the ‘I’m so sorry’ crap people like to pull when you tell them something supremely shitty has happened to you, and he hasn’t been like, pitying me or anything, he’s just been… softer, I guess.”

“How so?”

“He asked me out on a date, which I guess isn’t something he really does since he said he doesn’t fuck someone more than once.”

Sonya smiles at him and says, “So there’s potential there, hmm?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not sure if I’m ready to say we’re _dating_ , ‘cause that’s kind of a lot, but, but it’s _something_. A _good_ something.”

“Good. I’m happy for you, Ben. You’re handling this very well.”

\---

“How’s your boyfriend, Ben?” Mom asks once the previous conversation hits a lull. Ben chokes on his drink.

“What boyfriend?” Dad says, voice a little too loud. 

Rey laughs next to Ben, thumping his back. “You haven’t told your dad yet?”

“It’s not _my_ fault he’s unobservant!” Ben snaps. He should probably also clarify that he’s not _actually_ dating Armitage yet but he’d really rather not talk about his new and exciting sex life over one of his mother’s few home cooked meals.

“Hey!” his dad says, “I go to bed at a reasonable hour. Try being up earlier in the day, kid.”

Ben gestures at the fading hickey he knows is just peeking out of the collar of his sweater with a jerky motion. He says, “I’d think it’d still be kind of obvious _now_.”

“Ben, honey, don’t fight with your father,” Mom says, exasperated.

Ben and his dad say, “We’re not fighting,” in unison. Mom just gives them both a look that tells them, ‘You fucking are, now _stop_ ’. Ben presses his lips together while Rey snickers into her pot roast.

“When did this boyfriend happen?” Dad asks, brandishing his fork. Ben drags his hands down his face. He _really_ does not want to tell his family that him and Armitage are just fucking.

“Kinda a couple weeks ago?” he says instead. It’s close enough to the truth.

“Ben _loves_ him,” Rey, the shit, adds helpfully. Ben is going to fucking murder her. He buries his face in his hands.

“Loves—” Dad starts, but he’s cut off by Uncle Luke asking, “Is he cute?”

Ben just groans.

“Well? Is he?” Dad asks, ever supporting.

“He’s a perfectly respectable young man,” Mom says. Ben can hear the smile in her voice. She’s having _fun_. Ben is going to murder his entire family, then escape to Mexico to become a hermit and no one will ever going to bother him again.

“Respectable? And he’s dating _Ben_?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ben grouses from behind his hands.

“No, I mean—” Dad backtracks, valiantly trying to remove his foot from his mouth and only managing to force it in deeper when he says, “Look at yourself. You’re not exactly the kind of guy someone _respectable_ usually goes for.”

“He’s in a band,” Mom supplies. Rey laughs.

“A band?” Dad ask, sounding both bothered and impressed. “Benny-boy, are you _sure_ you want to be dating someone who’s in a band?”

They’re not _fucking_ dating but still, Ben is sure. Under his brusque attitude, Armitage is surprisingly gentle while still managing to not pity Ben. He’s absolutely the kind of person Ben needs as a partner.

“I’d be more worried about Armchair being kind of an asshole,” Rey says like she's trying to be helpful. Ben groans again.

“He’s just hard to get to know, okay?” Ben protests. “He’s been really nice now that we’re like, properly friends and shit.”

His words go unheeded as both his dad and his uncle go, “Armchair?” in response to Rey’s terrible nickname.

Rey just shrugs and says, “You try being on the receiving end of Ben talking for three months about his fixation on someone named _Armitage_.”

Ben rubs at his face, squishing his nose flat under his palm, eyebrows pinched together. He’s so fucking over this conversation. He asks, “Can we talk about something else now?”

“No,” his dad says simply. Ben grabs his plate and scoots his chair back.

“Then I’m leaving,” he says as he stands.

“We’re just worried for you,” Dad says. Ben scowls at him.

“No, you’re being nosy. Things are _fine_. I like him, he likes me, it’s _fine_.”

He stalks off after that. Ben can feel his family’s eyes on him, watching him until he rounds the corner where the stairs are. He’s halfway down the stairs to the basement when he hears his dad say, “Well, that could have gone better.”

“No shit,” Ben grumbles to himself, balancing his plate on one hand while he opens the door to his room with the other.

He’s mostly done eating, sitting cross legged on his bed, when there’s a knock on his door.

“Can I come in?”

It’s his uncle. Ben sighs and says, “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

Luke opens the door and slips in, settling into the lotus position at the end of Ben’s bed, watching him calmly. Ben stares back, cramming a roll into his mouth. Luke doesn’t say anything as Ben chews and swallows, waiting patiently. It reminds him a lot of Sonya.

“I hate when they do that,” Ben blurts out once his mouth is free.

Luke nods and says, “I know. They’re just worried about you.”

“I know,” Ben sighs. “It’s still really fucking frustrating. I shouldn’t be given the third degree every time I do something new just because of what Snoke did.”

Luke’s lips quirk up into a small smile.

“Do you not remember when Rey and Finn started dating?”

“Yeah, well,” Ben grumbles, “they’re _normal_. You didn’t give them as much shit.”

“You’ve been involved with this young man for a short period of time but you say you love him already,” Luke says. “Given your situation, how could we not be worried?”

Ben shoves his hands through his hair.

“Yeah,” he says, “I guess it’s a little much.”

“Your parents are proud that you’ve found someone to talk to outside of the family. That’s a big step for you.”

“I’m just obviously fixated on him and that worries you,” Ben says, filling in the blanks his uncle leaves.

“Just as long as you’re aware of what you’re doing,” Luke says, his smile widening. Ben sighs and scrubs at his face.

“Really, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Ben admits. “This whole thing with Armitage is fucking terrifying.”

“New relationships always are,” Luke says sagely.

Ben narrows his eyes at his uncle and says, “How would you know?”

Luke laughs and holds out his hand.

“Are you done with your plate? I’ll bring it back upstairs.”

Ben hands his uncle his mostly empty plate and watches him leave without another word.

\---

**big bad ben**  
You are such a fucking shit for telling everyone that i said i love armitage over dinner.  
Im not gonna fucking talk to you about this ever again.

**Rey**  
that is so fucking untrue, wow  
youre going to end up telling me about, like, EVERYTHING, because you kinda dont have anyone else to talk to  
because youre an awkward, goth hermit

**big bad ben**  
Ive got friends now.  
What do you call armitage?

**Rey**  
your boyfriend, duh

**big bad ben**  
Were not fucking dating!

**Rey**  
you went to a concert together, which you said he called a date, and then you slept over, and, presumably, had a lot of gross sex  
youre dating

**big bad ben**  
I mean i guess?  
But like.  
It was ONE date.  
ONE date does not mean were actually DATING.  
Its more like were not-dating.  
A step above being friends with benefits but not FULLY dating yet.

**Rey**  
you have put entirely way too much thought into this

\---

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
How are you?

**Ben the Stalker**  
Cold lol.  
Im waiting on the dock for the truck to arrive.

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Why not wait inside?

**Ben the Stalker**  
The back room isnt much warmer.  
Besides im doing stuff out here too.

**Armitage Fucking Hux**  
I see.

\---

Ben has just finished unloading the truck, him and Finn working on getting the carts inside for the night, when he’s paged to the front. Ben grunts, pulling the cart to the side to slide it up against the others.

“You should probably go,” Finn says. “Who knows what they need you for.”

Ben sighs, “Yeah, probably,” and squeezes out from behind the cart.

“Come get me when you’re done and we’ll finish up,” Finn says, turning back to CDC with a smile. Ben heads towards the registers.

Ben was not called to the front to accompany the MOD in scaring off shoplifters. 

Armitage stands by the manager’s register, looking posh as hell with his hair slicked back, wearing a long coat, slacks, and oxfords. He’s holding two Starbucks cups in his gloved hands. Ben feels severely underdressed in his sweaty hoodie and sloppy bun.

“Here,” Armitage says briskly, shoving one cup at Ben once he’s close enough to do so. Ben takes it. He can’t decide if it’s cute or anxiety-inducing that Armitage is being awkward while in view of other people. Maybe a little of both. Probably a little of both.

It’s probably worse for Armitage. Ben figures he’s more comfortable wearing the clothes he does to The First Order’s shows over the posh shit he apparently wears the rest of the time.

Ben pulls the stopper from the stopper from the cup’s lid and says, “Thanks.”

“It’s hot chocolate,” Armitage says. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I figured hot chocolate would be a safe bet, given the weather.” He pauses and looks at Ben critically, taking in the sleeves pushed up to Ben’s elbows and the neoprene work gloves. “What are you doing outside dressed like that?”

Ben laughs, “Doing manual labor.”

“Ben, you and your boyfriend should go somewhere else,” Rose says. “I have to open.”

Armitage flushes, so Ben doesn’t feel quite so bad about turning red himself as he ushers Armitage away from the registers.

Halfway to the door to the back room, Ben says, “You didn’t have to bring me anything.”

Armitage just says, “I know,” _but I wanted to_ being left unspoken.

“Thanks.” Ben fidgets, absolutely giddy that Armitage is here with him, frustrated because he has work to do. He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time; it’s a quarter past seven. He says, “I have to bring the carts in before it gets too late, but after that I can take a break, if, if you want to hang out for a bit. It won’t take long.”

Ben is convinced Armitage will say no. He’s sweat-sticky and gross and he won’t have a chance to splash water on his face or reapply deodorant or change his shirt before seeing him like he did when they went out for drinks or when they saw Empire, and Armitage is clean and neat and orderly. Why would he want to be around Ben when he’s like this?

But Armitage’s lips quirk up just the tiniest bit and he says, “Yeah, alright. I’ll just have a look around, then.”

Ben beams at him. He wants to scoop Armitage up and kiss him all over but he’s on the clock and he probably smells and he knows designer clothing when he sees it. As much as he wants to dishevel Armitage, he bets Armitage would not appreciate it in the least, so he just grins and walks backwards until he stumbles into the swinging doors to the back room. Armitage watches him go, that tiny smile still tilting his lips.

It doesn’t take Ben and Finn long to bring in the last couple of carts, Ben hauling them around with a renewed vigor.

“Go have fun hanging out with Armchair,” Finn says once they’re done, grinning at him. Ben rolls his eyes but heads out onto the floor to find Armitage, stripping off his gloves as he goes.

He nearly runs Armitage over as he exits the back room, Armitage apparently loitering by the door.

“Armchair?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

“It’s—” Ben laughs a little. “It’s my sort-of cousin’s fault. She’s dating Finn. You can, um, come back to the break room with me if you want. No one cares.”

Armitage follows him back into the break room, saying, “You know, what you said raises more questions than it answers. Why is she ‘sort-of’ your cousin and why does she call me ‘armchair’?”

“Oh, um,” Ben drops down into one of the mismatched chairs around the table. “I sort of talk about you to Rey a lot. She’s my uncle’s foster kid, or was, I guess—she’s aged out of the system—and she’s kind of an asshole so she calls you ‘Armchair’ to tease me, and I guess she’s talked to Finn about it too?”

Armitage presses his lips together, hovering.

“How many people have you told about us?” he asks, voice low, almost cold.

“Just, just my family,” Ben says, “and, um, my therapist. I don’t really _talk_ to a lot of people.”

Armitage just _hmm_ s and finally sits. Ben clicks his lip rings against his teeth, chewing on his lip; _he_ may not have told many people about things with Armitage, but there’s no way to know how many people his _family_ has told.

They sit in an awkward silence for a moment before something occurs to Ben.

“Hey, um, my parents are going to be out of town next weekend,” he says, trying for casual and really only hitting nervous. “Did you, did you wanna come over and stay the night?”

Ben is immediately kicking himself. He should have thought this through. _Stay the night_ , what is he, nine, offering to host a sleepover for someone much cooler than him?

“I’ll think about it,” Armitage says. Ben must look as devastated as he feels, because Armitage smiles and soothes him. “You saw Millicent’s morning routine. She would not be very happy if I deviated from it. She’d probably think she was starving the instant her bowl was empty.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s fair.” Ben mulls it over, taking a sip from his luke warm hot chocolate. “Maybe feed her the night before, before you come over?”

Armitage laughs softly. “Yeah, maybe. She’s still entirely likely to piss in my shoe for not coming home.”

Ben scowls and snaps, “You _can_ just say no.”

Armitage scowls back.

“I don’t _want_ to say no,” he says, voice like ice. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Ben immediately shrinks back. Shit. _Fuck_. He’s gone and screwed everything up. He just wanted to see Armitage again, to get Armitage naked in his bed, to have the memory of them together tangled in his sheets, but he fucked it up. Now Armitage will finally understand why Ben has no other friends and he’ll _leave_.

“Ben, love,” Armitage says softly, softer than Ben deserves, “I do want to come over. I just have a cat who’s a complete bitch if things don’t go her way. Last time I didn’t come home after a night out, she shat on the floor next to her litter box. It’s not you.”

“Oh, um.” Now Ben just feels even stupider. He has no idea _how_. This whole conversation has gone to shit. Armitage sighs, hands going up to run through his hair. He aborts the motion at the last minute and even fighting a panic attack, Ben thinks it’s cute how he doesn't want to mess up his hair.

“I’ll feed Millicent before I come over,” Armitage says. Ben’s heart skips a beat. “Is it this upcoming weekend or the weekend after?”

“Not this weekend, the next weekend,” Ben says, unable to keep a grin from splitting his face. Armitage shakes his head, but he’s smiling a little too.

“Alright,” he says. “I should probably go now. I have a paper to write.”

He stands and Ben follows, his chair scuffing noisily across the floor.

“Can I kiss you before you go?” Ben asks, cheeks already starting to heat up. He stares Armitage down, watching as he glances at the camera mounted in the corner. Ben assures him, “No one cares. Rey comes in and kisses Finn all the time.”

Armitage barely gets, “Alright, I suppose,” out before Ben’s crowding into his space, hand coming to rest on his neck. His scarf is very soft under Ben’s palm and Ben is completely unsurprised that he’s wearing something so nice. It’s just different from how Ben usually sees him, dressed in distressed jeans and band tees and boots, almost funny in how different he looks. _Respectable_ , his mom had said.

Ben leans in and brushes his lips across Armitage’s. It’s soft and chaste and it takes his breath away.

“You should go,” he murmurs against Armitage’s mouth, “before I try to spend the rest of the night kissing you.”

Ben can feel Armitage smile before he presses a firm kiss to Ben’s mouth, stepping away all too soon.

\---

**Captain Phasma**  
It’s been a while since you saw our stalker

**General Hux**  
I’m going to see him tomorrow.

**Captain Phasma**  
I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about this little date earlier  
Is it a spur of the moment thing?

**General Hux**  
It’s not a date and it’s not spur of the moment. He invited me over last week.

**Captain Phasma**  
If he invited you over and it’s not spur of the moment then it absolutely is a date, Tidge

**General Hux**  
I’m going over there and I’m going to fuck him through his mattress, and then I’m going to leave.

**Captain Phasma**  
You’re being awful defensive  
I bet you’re going to stay the night

**General Hux**  
He looked so fucking upset when I told him I’d think about it.

**Captain Phasma**  
You are absolutely fucked

**General Hux**  
I really am.

\---

Armitage feels a little strange driving up to the Organa house after dark. The neighborhood is almost eerie with the only light on the street coming from the windows of the houses. There hasn’t been a street lamp for about ten blocks and it’s off putting for Armitage, who has lived on the outskirts of the city in an apartment facing a street lined with light for almost eight years.

He parks and carefully makes his way up through the front garden to the door. At the very least, Ben has turned the porch light on, so he’s not trying to navigate the garden in complete darkness. He knocks.

There’s a thump from the inside then the door opens to reveal the dimly lit insides of the house.

“Hey,” Ben says, leaning almost casually against the door frame. The porch light combined with the glow from the inside paints him in harsh shadows. It’s fucking beautiful.

“Hello,” Armitage replies, hefting his overnight bag. “Do I get to come in?”

Ben almost trips over his own feet trying to get out of the way. Armitage holds back a laugh, smiling at Ben’s eagerness.

Once the front door is shut, Ben leads him to the living room, settling back into the spot Armitage assumes he was in before Armitage arrived. There’s a beat up paperback on the seat next to him and a throw trailing onto the hardwood floor. Armitage sets his bag down next to the stairs where he saw Ben come up for brunch and goes to sit on the couch next to him.

Ben turns towards him and reaches out, gently touching his cheek with one hand. It’s only natural to lean in and kiss him. Ben’s lips part easily under Armitage’s own, his hands coming to cup Armitage’s jaw. Armitage wants to push him over, wants to straddle his waist and grind against him until he’s hard and panting and desperate.

“Do you want to order a pizza?” Ben murmurs against his lips. Armitage has to pull away to snort at how _completely_ Ben killed the mood that was building. Ben stares at him, confused, and asks, “What?”

“You are entirely adorable,” Armitage tells him, tapping his fingertip against the point of Ben’s big nose. Ben just grins at him. Armitage can’t help but pull him in for another kiss.

“So, pizza?” Ben says against Armitage’s lips, voice low. Armitage is not sure if he’s trying to be sexy or not. His tone still sends a bolt of arousal straight to Armitage’s cock, even if his words make Armitage snort. Ben tacks on, “Or something else. Whatever you want; I’m not picky,” his voice less sultry in his concern.

Armitage pulls away, patting Ben's cheek with a wry smile.

“Pizza is fine, love,” he says. Ben nods, that vapid, starstruck look he's been leveling Armitage with on his face.

“Okay,” Ben says. “Um, are you hungry now? Or should we wait?”

It's late enough in the evening that Armitage has already eaten, but he can tell that Ben wants to do this _right_ , whatever the definition of _right_ is in his mind. Armitage is willing to go along with this, to make Ben happy, to make Ben feel like he's done well. A couple of slices of pizza is more than worth the ability to sink into Ben and feel him come undone from the inside out.

“Are _you_ hungry?” Armitage asks.

Ben shrugs and says, “I guess.”

“‘I guess’ is not an answer,” Armitage scolds, hating how he sounds like his father. Ben scowls at him.

“I don't ever have much of an appetite,” Ben tells him, his tone insinuating that Armitage is an idiot. “It's been a couple hours since I last ate so I should eat again sometime soon. So I guess I'm hungry, because I'm guessing.”

Armitage frowns at him, wanting to dig his heels in just out of habit, but he consciously recognizes that this is a stupid thing to fight over. Ben knows his body better than Armitage does.

“How are you never hungry?” Armitage asks, still sounding defensive despite his best efforts not to.

“I've been on ADHD meds for like ten years. I just am.”

“Oh.” And then because Armitage feels like he needs to offer up something, he says, “My father hates answers like ‘I guess’.”

Ben slides against the couch until he can put his head on Armitage’s shoulder. Armitage places one hand on the back of Ben’s neck automatically, wrapping around him without a thought. It's bizarrely comforting.

“Sorry I picked a fight,” Ben says softly. “It's a thing I’m working on not doing.”

“It's alright. I—” Armitage pauses, not sure how to continue. He presses his nose into Ben’s unruly hair. He says, “I’m an asshole, too.”

Ben huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah, a little.”

“We’re quite the pair.”

Ben sits up and beams at him, saying, “At least we're aware we're assholes.”

“Unlike my father,” Armitage supplies, making a joke out of it. Ben laughs again.

“Yeah.”

\---

They order pizza. Ben laughs at Armitage’s choice in a vegetable laden pizza while Armitage makes a face at Ben ordering a pizza with pesto.

“What?” Ben asks after he hangs up. “A guy’s gotta eat.”

“I’m just imagining the amount of grease that must be involved with a _pesto_ pizza.” Armitage says, voice bordering on disgusted.

“It’s delicious,” Ben assures him with a smile. “Every greasy bit of it.”

Armitage sniffs. “I'll have to take your word for it.”

“It has four kinds of cheese too,” Ben says, waggling his eyebrows.

Armitage rolls his eyes, but he can't help smiling juist the smallest amount. Ben is very much in his space, one big, warm hand on Armitage’s knee, his face at most ten centimeters away. Ben is grinning that grin, the soppy one, crooked and sweet.

Armitage places one hand on the back of Ben's neck, reeling him in for a kiss. 

“You are ridiculous,” he says against Ben’s lips.

“Yeah,” Ben murmurs. “Runs in the family.”

Ben pulls away and settles next to Armitage, pressed close, shoulder to shoulder.

“Do you wanna watch something on Netflix?” he asks.

Armitage shrugs. 

“Sure.”

Ben pulls out the required remotes from under the throw next to him, turning on the TV before handing over the controller for the Playstation. Armitage takes it, raising one eyebrow at Ben. Ben shrugs.

“I figure if you pick something too boring I can just start kissing you.”

Armitage snorts and clicks on the profile labeled _Ben_ , scrolling through anime and crime procedurals to find the documentary section. It’s mostly populated with documentaries about space and physics.

“That’s a pretty specific set of items your algorithm has spat out,” Armitage teases. “I thought documentaries were boring.”

“I said documentaries are nerdy and you’re a fucking nerd for watching them. I never said _I_ wasn’t a nerd, too.”

Armitage laughs, overcome with the urge to kiss Ben silly. He picks _Cosmos_ , a classic, one he has played multiple times while working on essays. Ben hums his approval and scoots down, slouching on the couch until he can rest his head against Armitage’s shoulder again.

It’s incredibly nice sitting here with Ben, having Ben lean against him with a hand on his knee. How nice it is almost outweighs Armitage knowing that this can’t continue. He’ll need to figure out how to break off this _thing_ he has with Ben before Ben gets too attached. Armitage will have to let him down easy, as nice as he possibly can given the situation.

But he doesn’t want to. He’ll admit it. He knows the longer this _thing_ goes on, the more likely it is his father will hear about it, but it is so, so nice sitting here with this warm, undemanding body pressed against him, watching something comforting. It reminds him of his childhood, when he was fourteen and still trying so hard to like girls, bringing them home for childish dates of pizza and movies. This has the same softness to it, but instead of feeling awkward and forced, it feels _right_ , like everything in the universe and his life has conspired for this one moment to happen, right now, with Ben.

His heart aches to know that he’ll have to put a stop to this.

“Hey,” Ben says softly. “What do you call a dog magician?”

“What do you call a what?”

“A dog magician,” Ben says again with a tiny laugh. “What do you call a dog magician?”

“What?” Armitage says, playing along.

Ben snickers, laughing at his own joke before he gets the punchline out, and says, “A labracadabradore.”

Armitage sputters with laughter.

“Oh my god, that was _terrible_.”

Ben cranes his head to kiss Armitage’s neck, still grinning.

“What kind of car does Jesus drive?” he asks. 

Armitage _knows_ that the answer will be similarly terrible but he still says, “What kind of car?”

“A Christ-ler.”

Armitage covers his face with his hands and groans, unable to help his laughter as Ben giggles into his neck. Ben presses harder against him, twisting so he can wrap his arms around Armitage’s ribs, pushing him over. Armitage goes willingly, happy to be pinned down by this gorgeous, wonderful boy.

“How do clocks communicate?” Ben asks. He only pauses to kiss Armitage’s throat before answering, “They tock to each other.”

“You are _terrible_ and you should be _ashamed_.”

Ben laughs. Armitage feels it in his chest where they’re pressed together, Ben half on him.

“I have more,” Ben says. Armitage feels vaguely threatened but he’s still grinning like a loon, laughing at every terrible joke Ben tells him.

“Are you attracted by cheesy lines? Because this is the deli counter.”

Armitage groans, “That was the worst one yet.”

“Are you the chamber of secrets? Because I want to Slytherin to you.”

“Oh my god, you fucking loser,” Armitage laughs. “What the fuck am I even doing with you.”

“Shh, you like me,” Ben says, kissing the corner of Armitage’s jaw. “Don’t lie. I know you do.”

Armitage sighs and teases, “I suppose.”

Ben just snickers and tells him, “Mountains just aren’t funny. They’re hill areas.”

Armitage twists to properly face Ben and pulls him into a kiss, tongue pressing between his lips. Ben kisses him back eagerly and, more importantly, _shuts up_.

Ben slides a hand under Armitage’s shirt, sliding over his bare ribs to touch a nipple. Armitage bites at Ben’s bottom lip, teeth clacking against his lip rings, and Ben moans.

Then he pulls away and murmurs, “I hate negative numbers and will stop at nothing to avoid them.”

Armitage groans, “If you don’t stop that, I will never have sex with you ever again.”

“That’s a damn lie,” Ben says. It is. The only thing stopping Armitage from keeping this boy with him forever is is fucking father. He’ll suffer through as many terrible puns as Ben cares to throw him for that glorious cock. 

At least this last one was _clever_.

Armitage kisses him again, burying his hand in Ben’s thick hair to keep him close. This position is not the most comfortable but Armitage still revels in how they’re tangled together, twisted up and wrapped around each other. Ben _surrounds_ him, his hair a curtain around their heads as they kiss, his arms around Armitage, touching skin wherever possible.

They’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door.

“Shit,” Ben mumbles as he pulls away. It takes some careful maneuvering for them to detangle themselves without someone falling off the couch, but they manage, and then Ben is speeding towards the front door.

Armitage lays back on the couch, half listening to Ben talk to the delivery person. He is entirely amused at how Ben must be hard; he had felt the beginnings of an erection against his hip when they were pressed together and Ben is so incredibly awkward. His erection must be making dealing with the delivery person terrible, especially since he's only in thin pyjama pants.

When Ben comes back carrying two pizza boxes, he has a light flush on his cheeks. Armitage can't help but smirk. It must have been torture to be away from Armitage.

“Do you want a plate?” Ben asks.

“Yes please. I’m not an animal eating out of the trash.”

Ben snickers. “I absolutely am. Why dirty a plate when you can eat straight from the box?”

Armitage snorts. He can most definitely see Ben hunched over a pizza box, inhaling his food, licking grease from his fingertips.

Ben sets the pizza boxes on the island counter, just out of sight behind the tv, and pulls down two plates. Armitage watches Ben's shirt ride up, revealing a strip of pale, muscled back, reveling in the eye candy.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Ben calls.

“Water is fine,” Armitage replies.

Ben comes back to the couch balancing two plates on one arm, a glass held in the other hand. Armitage is entirely impressed. He hands Armitage the glass, then one plate, and sits back in his spot next to Armitage.

He wolfs down his pizza, done with three slices in the time it takes Armitage to eat one. He barely waits for Armitage to finish eating before taking the plate from him, setting it on the coffee table in front of them before scooting down the couch so he can lay with his head in Armitage’s lap. Armitage’s hand immediately gravitates to Ben’s head, combing through his hair.

It's nice. It's _comfortable_ , soft and sweet and disgustingly domestic. Armitage’s heart already aches knowing he’ll have to end this thing they have.

He’d give anything not to. He hasn't quite figured Ben out, though he thinks he's close. Already, he knows he wants to continue with this thing and see where it leads even after finding what it is that makes Ben tick. He wants to keep going.

Fuck, he wants to _date_ Ben. They might already _be_ dating. He’s never had a boyfriend before.

_Fuck_. He can't do this. He has to finish this year of school and then he has to find a job. He can't lose his father's support before then. Can he hide Ben for that long?

“You think too loud,” Ben murmurs, voice soft and relaxed.

“Sorry, it's just, I think we're dating,” Armitage confesses. He's stunned at his own words. What the fuck possessed him to say _that_?

Ben perks up, saying, “Really?” Then he relaxes back into Armitage’s lap. Armitage can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I've never really had a boyfriend before.”

“Neither have I.”

Ben snickers.

“What a pair we make.”

\---

They watch another episode of Cosmos like that, with Ben resting his head in Armitage’s lap, Armitage’s fingers in his hair, utterly content, before Ben deems it late enough to retreat to his bedroom. Ben stretches when he sits up, arms above his head, back arched, and Armitage just knows he's showing off. Not that Armitage is complaining. He does quite like the view.

Ben’s shirt stays ever so slightly rucked up, caught at the top of his hips, showing off a small strip of skin. He doesn't tug it down like he did after getting down their plates. Armitage touches Ben’s lower back when they stand, hand gravitating to that bare skin. Ben wraps his arm around Armitage’s shoulder in turn, pulling him in for a hug.

“I’m gonna put the pizza away,” Ben says, kissing Armitage on the cheek. “Go ahead and head down. My room's the first door on the right.”

They part, Ben’s hands lingering on Armitage. Ben heads towards the kitchen while Armitage picks up his overnight bag and goes down the stairs.

Ben's bedroom door is slightly ajar. It has a small, wood sign that reads _The Cave_ in excessively swirly script burnt into it. Armitage pushes the door open and gropes to the side for the light switch. He finds it and flicks it up and, much to his surprise, Ben’s room lights up with Christmas lights, casting the room in a soft glow. The walls and the ceiling are all painted a deep blue, glow in the dark stars swirling across one wall and the ceiling. He has a large bed shoved into one corner, covers sloppily pulled up, and two tall bookshelves crammed with paperbacks and odd knicknacks. There’s a laundry hamper piled high with black clothes in the corner, tucked against the large dresser. 

It doesn't have the sleek but warm look the rest of the house has. It is instead cluttered and lived in, but cleaner than Armitage had expected given how much of a mess Ben seems to be. It's dark and comfortable, still clinging to the fact that this is Ben's childhood bedroom despite the goth additions.

What catches Armitage’s eye the most is the neat line of orange pill bottles lining the edge of the nightstand. He drops his overnight bag by the bed and picks one up, unable to help himself.

It reads _Risperidone, 4MG, Take one daily at night_. This tells Armitage precisely nothing, though he supposes he could google the medication’s name. The most interesting part of the pill bottle is how Ben's last name is hyphenated, _Organa-Solo_.

“That's my mood stabilizer,” Ben says from right behind Armitage. Armitage nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping the pill bottle. Ben swoops in and manages to catch it before it drops to the floor. He sets it on the nightstand with all the others, saying, “It's classified as an antipsychotic, but it's got a lot of uses.” He puts a finger on the lid of the next one. “ADHD meds.” Then the next three in rapid succession. “Melatonin. Vitamin D. Multivitamin.”

“Sorry. I didn't—” Armitage says, cutting himself off before saying _I didn't mean to snoop_ because he absolutely did, he just didn't think he'd get caught. Ben is far too large to move so silently.

Ben shrugs. 

“It's fine. If I wasn't okay with you seeing them, I would have hid them or something.”

Armitage just stares, amazed at just how much Ben trusts him. He absolutely cannot break this wonderful boy’s heart.

He wraps his arms around Ben’s waist and murmurs into his neck, “You lovely, wonderful boy.”

\---

Ben is not sure how he feels about telling Armitage the details of his meds. He's not used to sharing that information with people outside his family. He's not used to sharing _anything_ outside his family.

But Armitage has taken every bit of information Ben has revealed about his stupid brain in stride, never once pitying him for being so broken. He's wrapped around Ben, whispering endearments against his throat, and Ben feels so cared for, so _loved_ , like Armitage isn't bothered at all by Ben’s problems. Like this could _work_.

Ben squeezes Armitage to his chest, shuffling them forward until Armitage’s ass hits the edge of his bed.

“I have something for you,” Ben says.

“You shouldn't have,” Armitage teases, voice tinged with laughter. Ben kisses him on the cheek.

“You asked me for it,” he says, pulling away. He steps over to the bookshelf at the end of his bed, pulling a sheet of paper folded in half from between two books. He hands it over and tries not to fidget as he watches Armitage unfold it.

“Oh,” Armitage says once he's read it over. “I was not expecting you to actually get this done.”

Ben shrugs.

“I have a ton of doctor appointments already; I figured what was one more.”

“Thank you,” Armitage says, smiling at Ben. Then he laughs softly, “Now I feel bad because _I_ haven't gotten tested recently.”

Ben crowds against Armitage where he's half seated on the edge of Ben’s bed, placing his hands on the top of Armitage’s thighs.

“You should get on that,” Ben says.

“I will,” Armitage promises.

“Alright, cool. We should—” Ben gestures vaguely, “—get ready for bed now.”

“I do hope you're not planning on _sleeping_ any time soon,” Armitage teases, his soft smile sharpening into a devilish smirk.

“I wouldn't have given you my test results if I was,” Ben replies, amazing himself with just how smoothly the words fall from his lips.

“Good,” Armitage says, patting the back of one of Ben's hands. “Go take your pills. I'll get my things sorted.”

Ben pulls away to do what Armitage told him to. He goes through his pill bottles on autopilot, watching Armitage squat next to the bed to dig through his bag. He raises his toothbrush over his head in victory once he finds it, making Ben snort. Ben would have never thought of the frontman of The First Order as _cute_ but he's learned that Armitage is exactly that, among other things.

He still can't believe that he’s friends with Armitage fucking Hux, that they might be probably dating. If someone had told him three months ago that he’d be sleeping with the frontman of his favourite band, he would have never believed them, but here he is, in his bedroom with Armitage _fucking_ Hux, having given him a paper stating he's free of STIs specifically so Armitage can fuck him raw.

He can't believe it.

Ben goes through the motions of getting ready for bed in a daze, brushing his teeth side by side with Armitage in the small downstairs bathroom. It's so domestic. Ben wants to do this every night for the rest of his life.

He’s so utterly in love with Armitage. It’s only natural to press up against him once they’re back in Ben’s room, sliding his hand under Armitage’s sweater until Armitage laughs softly and pulls it over his head.

“You too,” Armitage says, voice so fond it almost hurts.

Ben shrugs out of his hoodie and pulls off his shirt, eager to get naked, to have Armitage naked against him. He doesn’t care if they fuck or not; he just wants to be wrapped around Armitage, skin to skin under the covers. But they’re going to fuck. He’s already half hard with anticipation, wanting Armitage’s mouth and hands all over him.

He pushes his pj pants down his thighs, barring all for Armitage.

Armitage crowds into his space, hands trailing down Ben’s neck, across his chest, over his stomach, to his half hard dick, fingers wrapping around his length. 

“Look at you,” Armitage croons, one hand on Ben’s hip as he slowly strokes Ben to full hardness with the other. “My lovely, handsome boy.”

His sweet words unintentionally echo Snoke, but Ben believes it coming from Armitage. He’s willed himself to trust Armitage and it’s been worth it at every turn. Armitage just wants him for _him_ , every messy bit of him. Armitage is his _boyfriend_. Of course he belongs to Armitage.

And Armitage is _his_ , too.

Ben tucks his face against Armitage’s neck and asks, “ _Are_ you my boyfriend?”

Armitage’s hand pauses briefly before his thumb rolls over the ring in Ben’s cockhead.

“Do you want me to be?” Armitage asks back, carefully, cautiously, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Ben nods and breathes, “Yeah. Yes, please, fuck.”

Ben is hard in Armitage’s hand, wrapped around him, tense, _waiting_ for an answer. His chest is tight, his breath short and choppy. He feels _stupid_ for needing clarification; them agreeing earlier that neither of them have had a boyfriend _before_ implied that they do _now_ , but still, Ben feels the need to ask. He has to know _for sure_.

“I suppose that could be agreeable,” Armitage says after what feels like forever, though Ben consciously knows it was barely a couple of seconds. Ben buries his face harder against Armitage’s shoulder, trying to crawl into his skin with him. How did he get so fucking _lucky_?

Armitage lets go of Ben’s dick to wrap his arms around Ben’s shoulders, kissing the corner of Ben’s jaw.

“You're all mine, aren't you?” Armitage asks, voice low. “My lovely, wonderful, beautiful boyfriend. Mine.”

Ben nods. The possessiveness in Armitage’s words both thrills and terrifies Ben, but unlike Snoke, Armitage says it fondly. He sounds so pleased to be able to call Ben his, to be wrapped around Ben, to have Ben’s hard on pressed against his own. Armitage isn't using him. Ben is not a means to an end, he’s Armitage’s _boyfriend_.

“Say that you’re mine,” Armitage says, _pleads_.

This is too close but the words, “I’m yours,” fall from Ben’s lips easily. His heart clenches, anxiety ticking up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on it long. Armitage kisses his neck, hands in Ben’s hair gently tugging his head back so Armitage can kiss his along his jaw, his cheek, to his mouth. He kisses Ben with such passion, desperate to consume Ben. Ben can taste how much Armitage loves him on his lips. Sex with Armitage is like being submerged in the ocean, but instead of a tsunami overwhelming him, it laps at him, strong but gentle, beckoning him to come deeper. It could overwhelm him if he’s not careful, but Ben is sure he’d just be pushed back to shore.

He _trusts_ Armitage, wholly and completely. He’s an equal in this relationship. He gets to push as much as he is pushed.

“What do you want to do tonight, love?” Armitage asks, and _that’s_ the difference.

“You,” he says simply, punctuating his single word with another kiss. Armitage pulls away to laugh softly.

“Obviously,” Armitage teases. “Are you willing to let me try fucking you again? Or do you think that might upset you?”

It’s said matter-of-factly, with no pity or any hint that Armitage is upset. He doesn’t even sound worried. He just wants them having sex to be as enjoyable as possible.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He’s not sure if he _can_ keep from crying but he wants to try. He wants to please Armitage. He’ll do _anything_ for him. Lying back and taking it should be easy. He can _do this_.

“You don’t have to. I’m fine doing other things.”

Ben knows Armitage is just trying to assure him, trying to not pressure him, but him double checking still frustrates him.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Ben says, trying hard not to sound angry and probably failing. “I want to.”

Being fucked by Armitage that first time was _good_ , even if it scared the hell out of him. He was gentle and took his time and tried so hard to make sure Ben enjoyed it, and Ben _trusts him_. He knows this time will be even better, because they know each other better, because Ben _loves him_ , because Armitage is his _boyfriend_.

“I want to,” he repeats, softer, nudging his forehead against Armitage’s.

“Okay,” Armitage says. “Lay down then.”

Ben pulls away and folds down the covers, climbing into bed under them. He watches as Armitage shimmies out of his jeans, standing on one foot then the other to pull off his socks. It’s cute, the small, domestic action going straight to Ben’s heart.

Then Armitage is standing naked before him, stroking his dick leisurely as he observes Ben laid out before him.

“You’re so lovely,” Armitage sighs, voice warm, smiling softly. “My lovely, handsome boy.”

He climbs into bed with Ben, straddling one of Ben’s thighs, arms bracketing Ben’s ribs. He leans in to kiss Ben, softly, sweetly, like they have all the time in the world. Ben kisses back eagerly, hands cupping Armitage’s jaw.

Ben’s heart is full to bursting. He’s exactly where he wants to be in life, safe in his room, naked in bed with his gorgeous, sexy, sweet _boyfriend_. He can’t help but murmur, “I love you,” against Armitage’s lips.

Armitage goes tense above him and Ben realizes what he said.

Fuck. _Fuck_. It’s too soon to admit that. They just decided that they’re dating; he shouldn’t have told him that. He’s fucked it up, gone too far. He’s still not even sure if he truly does love Armitage or if he’s just fixated on him. He _really_ should not have said that.

“Sorry,” Ben blurts, repeating the word over and over while his heart sink.

Armitage kisses him to shut him up.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I just. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry,” Ben says again.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just—” Armitage pauses, and Ben can hear him think _don’t say it again_ , “—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Ben desperately wants to hear Armitage tell him he loves him too, but he _knows_ it’s too soon. He’s fucked up and jumped the gun and he can’t take the words back. He just gets to suffer knowing Armitage doesn’t quite feel the same way.

Armitage kisses him again, and it’s still soft and sweet. He pours his feelings for Ben out through the kiss, silently telling him he cares, even if he doesn't love Ben back quite yet, promising a future where he _could_. They just decided to date, Ben reminds himself; there’s still time. It’s not a race.

He slides his hands down Armitage’s back and pulls their hips together, wanting to just move on and forget his stupidity. Armitage rolls his hips against Ben’s eagerly. Their bodies slot together perfectly, Armitage’s thigh against Ben’s balls, his cock sliding along the dip of Ben’s hip. It feels so good, so perfect, just rutting against each other.

“I want to suck your cock,” Armitage murmurs.

Ben nods dumbly, saying, “Yeah. Yes, fuck, please.”

Armitage kisses his lips firmly before moving down his body, kissing whatever skin happens to be in front of him on his way down. He bites at Ben’s hip, making Ben jerk and hiss, before soothing it away with another kiss.

He bipasses Ben’s dick in favour of kissing the crook of his thigh, then the inside of his thigh, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin there. Ben groans and gently tugs at Armitage’s hair.

“Come on,” he pleads. He can feel Armitage’s smirk against his skin, but Armitage complies, pressing a kiss to the underside of his head, just where the ring pierces skin. Then he wraps his fingers around Ben’s length and swallows him down.

Ben gasps and arches into Armitage’s mouth. It’s different without a condom, Armitage’s mouth warmer and wetter against his bare cock. His piercing rolls through his flesh as it slides across Armitage’s tongue, adding another level of sensation. It’s almost too much, Ben choking on air as he groans, palm pressed against his mouth.

Armitage pulls away to say, “You don’t have to keep quiet, love. It’s just you and I tonight.”

Ben nods. Even just Armitage’s breath on his wet cock is a lot.

Armitage sucks him down again, blowing him enthusiastically. He’s _good_ at it, able to swallow most of his cock, his tip bumping the back of Armitage’s throat. Ben tries his best to remember everything Armitage does, half to jerk off to later, half to recreate the next time he blows Armitage.

He moans, and even though he knows they’re alone, he feels he’s too loud. He’s never been this loud in his own room, never had someone make him be so loud in his own room.

Armitage slides up to just the very tip of Ben’s cock, tongue against his piercing, before he pops off completely.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” he says. “I want to fuck you while you’re hypersensitive and overwhelmed.”

Ben chokes on a laugh, face hot at Armitage’s candid words.

“I don’t know if I can do the same thing as last time,” he says, gasping. He still can’t believe that _last time_ Armitage fucked him he came twice. He didn’t even know that was possible.

Armitage just smirks up at him, lips curving against Ben’s cock as he strokes him slowly with one hand.

“We can always try,” he says. “You were beautiful that first time.”

Ben shivers at the compliment, at Armitage’s touch, at the hungry look Armitage levels him with.

“Okay,” he breathes.

Armitage presses a wet kiss against his hip bone and says, “Alright. Where’s your lube then? I want to get you ready to take my cock while I suck you.”

Ben rolls to reach into his nightstand’s drawer, digging blindly for his bottle of lube. He finds it and flops back, handing it to Armitage.

Armitage takes it and slides his hands under Ben’s knees, making him raise them, framing Armitage’s head with his thighs. He kisses Ben’s cock, warm and distracting. Ben distantly hears the click of the lube bottle’s cap before cool, wet fingers press at his ass. Armitage swallows him back down as he breaches him with one finger. Ben breathes slowly, focusing on Armitage’s wet mouth around him.

It’s not long before Armitage is pushing a second finger into him, pressing deeper in search of his prostate. He finds it, making Ben jerk and gasp.

Armitage pulls away to murmur, “There we go, love, that’s it,” lips dragging at the head of Ben’s cock. He puts pressure on Ben’s prostate, rubbing at it, making Ben choke and moan, swallowing him down all the way, tongue pressed against the underside of Ben’s cock as he _sucks_. Ben can’t help covering his mouth with his hand again, whimpering. His hips jerk, tiny twitches trying to both press back on Armitage’s fingers and press up into Armitage’s mouth.

Armitage bobs his head, keeping as much of Ben in his mouth as he can while providing sweet friction, all soft lips and wet tongue. He times his fingers' movements in time with his mouth’s, sucking and fucking Ben until he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” Ben gasps. “ _Fuck_.”

Armitage hums, like he’s telling Ben to come, and it vibrates through him. He shivers, panting, pulled tight as he climbs closer and closer.

And then he moans Armitage’s name and lets go, filling Armitage’s mouth. Armitage milks him through it, making him tremble.

Slowly, Armitage pulls away, Ben’s dick falling from his lips and his fingers sliding out of Ben’s ass. He climbs back up Ben’s body, kissing him all over once again, until he reaches Ben’s lips. Ben can taste himself on Armitage’s tongue, sharp and bitter, hammering home how much Armitage wants him. Armitage wanted him tested so he could do this; he had thought about this, wanted this, wanted to _continue_ this. _Wants_ to continue this. 

Ben savours the feel of Armitage’s tongue in his mouth, sucking on it the same way Armitage had sucked on him.

Armitage rolls his hips against Ben’s, his hard cock dragging against Ben’s softening, spit slick one. It sends a jolt of pleasure down Ben’s spine, making him twitch and gasp. Armitage kisses across Ben’s jaw and down his neck to bite at Ben’s shoulder. Ben jerks against him harder, shuddering.

“You taste so good,” Armitage says against Ben’s skin. “You _feel_ so good.” With that, Armitage sits up, and asks, “Condoms in the side table as well?”

Ben nods, even though he doesn’t care right now if Armitage fucks him raw, and Armitage leans over him to get at the drawer. He shuffles around in the drawer until he finds the small box of condoms, the tip of his dick touching Ben’s stomach. He can feel wetness being smeared against his skin, Armitage leaking precome onto him.

He comes away with a condom in hand, unwrapping it to roll it down his length. Ben hears the cap to the lube clicking open again and then Armitage is pushing Ben’s knees towards his chest, pressing into him. Ben shivers, focusing on his breathing until Armitage bottoms out.

Armitage leans between Ben’s spread legs to press his lips against Ben’s, a chaste kiss, a reminder that he cares. Ben is so fucking full and it feels _nice_. It’s amazing having Armitage in him, filling him. It feels _right_ , better than last time, less anxiety-inducing.

Armitage rolls his hips, not pulling out, just shifting within Ben. Ben gasps and twitches, still so sensitive from his orgasm.

“You feel so good,” Armitage says again, saying the words soft against the corner of Ben’s mouth. Ben huffs a laugh, turning his head the fraction of an inch needed to capture Armitage's lips again with his own. Armitage kisses him leisurely while he slowly moves, picking up speed inch by inch until he’s gasping against Ben’s mouth as he fucks him.

It’s _good_. Ben can feel himself slowly start to harden again, pleasure crackling along his nerves. He likes being here, being under Armitage as Armitage pants, fucking into him. His thighs are shaking at Armitage’s waist, his body tense and overwhelmed.

“Touch yourself,” Armitage whispers. Ben does, reaching a hand between their bodies to wrap his fingers around his half hard dick. He thumbs at the ring through his head, stroking himself to full hardness, hand moving in time with Armitage’s thrusts. Armitage kisses him and says, “That’s it, there we go.”

It’s _nice_. He likes this, likes being fucked without being expected to come from it, likes being fucked after an orgasm has been rung out of him, so that he’s shaky and sleepy and overwhelmed. His hand feels so good on his dick, electric, almost too much.

Armitage fucks him harder, hips pistoning into Ben. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, staring down at Ben, his soft lips parted as he pants. He looks so fucking beautiful. He feels so fucking _good_.

The words have fallen from his lips once already, so Ben moans, “Love you.”

Armitage’s hips stutter before he folds over Ben, tucking his face against Ben’s throat, kissing his skin as he fucks him harder, faster. Ben’s hand is trapped between their bodies. He wraps his other arm around Armitage’s back, holding him close.

Ben can’t decide on if he wants Armitage to come soon or if he wants this to last forever. He’s leaning towards _forever_ , caught in this perfect moment of him and Armitage wrapped around each other.

Then Armitage bites his shoulder and stills and it’s _perfect_.

This time, Ben’s blinking back tears because this moment is everything he could have ever wanted. He kisses Armitage’s temple and Armitage kisses his shoulder before dragging himself up. He slowly pulls out, Ben sucking in a breath as he does, oversensitive still. Armitage kisses the point of his crooked up knee, breathing hard against it for a moment before he goes to climb off the bed.

“Where’s your bin?” Armitage asks as he peels the condom off his dick.

“Ah, fuck—” Ben didn’t think that far ahead. “In the bathroom. But like, wrap it in toilet paper so my dad doesn’t see.”

Armitage laughs, “Keeping me a secret, then?”

“No,” Ben groans. “But my family already gives me endless shit about you. I really don’t want them seeing proof that we’re having sex or else they’re going to tease me _even more_.”

“Okay,” Armitage says, sounding amused. Ben watches him walk off naked to the bathroom. He pulls the covers over him while he waits for Armitage to come back, sweat cooling on his body, making him shiver. He has the covers pulled up to his nose by the time Armitage returns. Armitage pauses by the door, a smile blooming on his face.

“Stop that,” he teases, flicking the lights off. “You’re not allowed to be so cute.”

Ben grins at that, scooting from the middle of the bed to one side to allow Armitage to lay down too. He listens as Armitage slowly makes his way over in the dark, climbing in next to him. Ben immediately pulls him close and Armitage rolls to face him, bumping their noses together.

“I think I do love you,” Ben tells him seriously. Armitage kisses him.

“I know.”

\---

**General Hux**  
I fucked up.

**Captain Phasma**  
Oh?

**General Hux**  
Ben asked if we’re dating and I said yes.

**Captain Phasma**  
Oh  
Well you kind of are

**General Hux**  
It gets worse. He said he loves me.

**Captain Phasma**  
I knew it

**General Hux**  
He said it during sex though so I am not sure if he really does or if it was just a heat of the moment thing.

**Captain Phasma**  
I think he means it  
I’ve seen how he looks at you

**General Hux**  
What am I going to do? I can’t just end things now.

**Captain Phasma**  
All you really can do is hope your father doesn’t hear about things

\---

**big bad ben**  
Guess the fuck what.

**Rey**  
let me guess, it has to do with armchair

**big bad ben**  
Were actually dating now.  
He was like i think were dating so i was like ARE we dating and he said yeah.  
So were dating.

**Rey**  
fucking finally  
it took the two of you long enough

\---

**Ben the Stalker**  
I miss you.

Armitage really needs to change Ben’s name in his phone. He agreed to date the poor boy; he deserves to be known as something better.

He can’t fucking believe he agreed to date Ben. What was he thinking? This is such a bad idea, but he’s committed now. He’s just going to keep this going as long as he can, hoping to fuck that his father doesn’t learn about this. He wants Ben _so bad_. He almost thinks the fallout might be worth it.

He’s never had someone love him like Ben does before.

**Armitage fucking Hux**  
I miss you too.

**Ben the Former Stalker**  
<3

\---

Armitage walks into their practice room the next Sunday brandishing a folder of sheet music. They have a new song to perfect.


	5. and now i need to know is this love real?

**Ben the Former Stalker**  
Hey do you want to go like see a movie with me?

Ben did it. He asked his _boyfriend_ on a date. It’s stupid that his brain made such a big deal out of it; they’ve gone on a date before.

But that was before Armitage agreed that they’re _dating_. It’s different now, bigger, less casual. It’s more _real_.

Ben still can’t believe that they’re _dating_. He has a _boyfriend_ , a real one, someone _he_ chose. Someone who likes him for _him_.

Armitage replies after only a couple of minutes.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Alright. When did you have in mind?

Ben tries not to overthink the _alright_. Armitage always texts like that, formal and precise. it doesn't _mean_ anything. He _knows_ that. He still very firmly has to ignore the way his brain tells him that Armitage is only agreeing to placate Ben, to get him to shut up, which is dumb because Ben hasn’t been pestering him all that much. Sure, he’s been texting Armitage periodically over the past two weeks, sappier now that they’re dating, but it’s been a reasonable amount of texts. Besides, Armitage has been texting him too, soft things. Ben has woken up the past three mornings and checked his phone to see that Armitage had texted him hours ago, saying, _Good morning, love. Have a good day at work._ Ben has been taking that as Armitage saying he misses Ben, that he _cares_ for Ben.

 **Ben the Former Stalker**  
Saturday probably?  
If that works for you.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Saturday sounds lovely. Shall I meet you at the theater or did you want to be traditional and pick me up?

Ben hides his face in his hands, grinning. He _knew_ Armitage didn’t mean anything by his phrasing.

 **Ben the Former Stalker**  
Ill pick you up.  
Look up movie times and tell me when.

\---

Ben tries so hard not to be stupidly early. He does alright, arriving at Armitage’s apartment only ten minutes before they agreed. He parks and waits five minutes before texting Armitage that he’s here. Armitage is out almost immediately, pausing only to lock his door before bounding up the steps to Ben’s car. Ben unlocks his doors and Armitage slides into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Ben says, looking Armitage over. Armitage is a little flushed from running up the stairs, breath coming quick. He smiles at Ben as he clicks his seatbelt closed. He’s wearing black jeans and his boots under a thick coat, a burgundy scarf around his throat, his hair free from product slicking it back. It’s still a little damp, like he just got out of the shower. Ben tries very hard not to think of him naked and wet, pink all over from the heat of the water.

“Hullo,” Armitage says in reply, smirking like he knows what Ben is thinking. 

Ben tears his eyes away and shifts his car out of park. He focuses on driving them to the theater, only glancing at Armitage out of the corner of his eye.

He can’t believe he has a boyfriend. He can’t believe he’s going on a date with that boyfriend. He can’t believe that boyfriend he’s going on a date with is Armitage fucking Hux, frontman of his favourite local band.

Armitage lets Ben drive in relative silence, the engine and the radio playing quietly the only sounds. 

“I was not expecting you to drive so safely,” Armitage finally says once they pull into the theater parking lot.

“Yeah, well,” Ben says, “driving is fucking terrifying. I’m going to pilot my screaming two ton death machine as best I can.”

Armitage snorts as he unbuckles himself, opening the door to step out of the car. Ben follows him, moving quickly, expecting Armitage to just… walk off towards the theater.

His brain is wrong. Armitage stands by the end of the car, waiting for Ben. He holds out one hand expectantly, smiling as Ben takes it in his own. Ben can’t tell if he’s anxious or if the butterflies are taking over his insides again. Maybe a little of both. Probably a little of both.

He doesn’t know _why_ he would be anxious. He’s comfortable around Armitage now; maybe not as comfortable as he is around his family or his therapist, but comfortable enough. They’ve been talking for almost four months. Armitage does things like text him good morning and brings him hot chocolate when it’s cold. Armitage kisses him sweetly and holds his hand. Armitage fucks him exactly how he wants to be fucked and kisses away his tears. He _loves_ Armitage; he shouldn’t be anxious around him.

Brains, he decides, are fucking _stupid_.

“Do you want popcorn?” Armitage asks as they approach the ticket taker, their tickets bought online earlier.

“Of course,” Ben says. “You can’t go to the movies without getting popcorn.”

Armitage snorts again, his smile spreading across his face. He says, “Of course not,” sounding like he’s just humouring Ben, but in a _good_ way, like he thinks Ben is being cute instead of stupid.

They get their popcorn and find their seats in the theater. Armitage makes quiet, vicious fun of all the trailers for movies that he deems boring, making Ben snicker. Then the movie starts and it’s alright. It’s a decent movie, a pretty standard action flick, with fight scenes and explosions. Ben can hardly focus on it, too attuned to the fact that Armitage sits next to him in the dark, the screen reflected in his pale eyes. He notices every time Armitage shifts, getting closer and closer to the edge of his seat, until he lifts the arm separating them and leans against Ben’s shoulder.

Ben’s breath hitches. The butterflies have definitely taken over his insides, filling him with fluttering wings. They pick up speed when Armitage takes the half empty popcorn bucket and sets it on the floor between his feet, his hand finding Ben’s thigh as he sits back up, their shoulders pressed together. Ben sets his hand onto of Armitage’s, thinking it sweet that Armitage wants to touch him.

Then Armitage slides his hand up and in, fingertips tracing the inseam of Ben’s jeans. He leans in and whispers into Ben’s ear, “What if I got on my knees for you right here?”

Ben swallows a whimper and tries not to squirm as Armitage’s hand slides up higher and higher.

“I’d swallow you down quickly,” Armitage continues. “I’d take you down to the root so no one could see what’s mine.”

Ben shivers and Armitage switches hands, twisting to rest his chin on Ben’s shoulder while his hand rubs at where Ben’s dick is slowly hardening. He’s not trying to jerk Ben off or anything; his hand moves in slow, gentle strokes, teasing Ben. 

This is both terrifying and exhilarating, the possibility of getting caught just as potent as Armitage’s hand on him. The butterflies tick up, fed by Ben’s anxiety.

“You’d fill my mouth completely, stretching my jaw wide. You could fuck my mouth and come down my throat. There's hardly anyone here. I wonder how many people would notice.”

Ben grabs Armitage’s hand, stilling it against his cock as he turns his head to press his lips against Armitage’s.

“Later,” he murmurs. He can feel Armitage grin.

“Promise?”

Ben nods quickly.

“Good,” Armitage says. “The moment I get you home, I’m going to suck your cock, right there by the door, like you did after Empire. I’m going to swallow you down until I choke on it. Would you like to fuck my mouth? I'd let you, let you pull my hair and do with me what you will. Would you like that?”

Ben nods again, struck mute. He's not so sure he wants to get rough with Armitage but he loves knowing Armitage trusts him enough to give over entirely to Ben’s whims. 

Armitage squeezes Ben's dick. He's so fucking hard. The touch makes him whimper. Then Armitage pulls away, sitting back in his seat with his hands folded in his lap, smirking devilishly. Ben just stares at him, breathing quick and laboured like he’s been running.

He's reasonably certain no one overheard them. There's no one to either side of them for at least three seats and no one in front of them. Ben still can't believe Armitage offered to blow him _here_ , in a theater, where people could see. It's dangerous and juvenile and utterly thrilling.

Ben spends the rest of the movie hard, unable to pay attention to it because all he can think of is Armitage’s mouth on him. 

Armitage makes good on his promise. He accosts Ben as soon as his front door is locked, mouth hot on his, hands everywhere. Armitage shoves at Ben's jacket, forcing it over his shoulders to the floor with a clatter, then pushes his hands up Ben’s shirt. His palms slide over Ben’s stomach, around to his back as Armitage pulls them tighter together. Ben groans against Armitage’s mouth, one hand on the back of Armitage’s neck, the other holding onto his shoulder for dear life.

Ben’s hard again. He barely stopped being hard; he had a chub the entire drive from the theater, arousal clinging to him. Armitage rocks their hips together and _he's_ not hard. Ben's not surprised. Armitage is usually more composed than he is anyway. Ben knows Armitage will get hard though. The way he kisses Ben promises he’ll be wrecked. The friction against his hard on is still glorious.

“Look at you, love,” Armitage murmurs. “Already hard for me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

Ben nods and gasps, “Yeah.”

“You must be desperate for me to touch you, hmm?”

Ben nods again and Armitage kisses him.

“Would you rather I tease you a little longer or get right to it?” Armitage asks, voice low, dangerous. Ben shivers and _thinks_.

Armitage probably wants to draw this out. That's what his tone insinuates: ages spent gasping and moaning, so hard he hurts as Armitage barely touches him, just enough to keep him on edge. It sounds like torture. It sounds _amazing_.

Ben worries it might be too much. He wants to please Armitage, wants to do anything to make him happy. It wouldn't be hard to just go along with Armitage’s plan. He _trusts_ Armitage. He knows Armitage will be gentle with him, will take care of him, will only do what Ben wants him to, but still, he's barely capable of having sex without being overwhelmed. This sounds extremely overwhelming.

“Not yet,” Ben says. “Just, just, let's go to your room. I want you to touch me.”

“But not tease you,” Armitage says, seeking verbal confirmation. He doesn't sound disappointed but Ben’s insides still twist up with worry.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Not yet.”

“Maybe later?” Armitage asks, nosing against Ben's cheek.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Armitage says, tilting his face to speak directly into Ben’s ear. His voice is soft when he says, “I love seeing you overwhelmed. I love having you at my mercy like that. You trust me so much.”

Ben shivers again and moans, “I do, fuck, yeah, I do.”

Armitage kisses his neck and squeezes him tight then says, “Tell me why.”

Ben whimpers. He doesn't understand what Armitage means at first, too distracted by Armitage’s teeth on his neck. He can think of only one answer and he's not sure it's the right one.

“Because I love you,” he says anyway. The words feel right on his tongue, truthful like nothing else. He's more and more sure of his feelings every time he says it, so he says it again: “I love you.”

Armitage nods and asks, “Do you know how wonderful that makes me feel, to know that? I've never had this before.”

Ben's heart soars at Armitage’s words. It's not an _I love you_ back, but it's close. He's special, more than just the fucks Armitage has always had: a boyfriend. Someone who loves Armitage.

He’s _special_.

Ben wraps Armitage up in a bear hug, telling him again, “I love you. I love you so fucking much. You're so fucking wonderful. I _love_ you.”

Armitage laughs, sounding delighted, and squirms out of Ben’s grasp. He stands back, hands on Ben’s shoulders, hair in disarray, _grinning_. Ben grins back and touches Armitage’s cheek.

“I love you,” he says. His chest is tight, full to bursting from his feelings, but in a _good_ way.

Armitage swats him in the arm and says, “Alright, that's enough, you sap.”

Ben says it one more time, just because he can, and Armitage laughs.

“Bed,” he says. “Come on, let's get naked. I still have to suck your cock, remember?”

“Yeah,” Ben says.

Armitage pulls away and says, “Shoes off,” as he starts in on his own. Ben follows his lead, unlacing his boots before he heads off to Armitage’s room. He peels his shirt off as he goes, tossing it over the back of the couch before unbuttoning his jeans.

“Eager, aren't you?” Armitage teases, coming up behind him to put a hand on the small of his back.

“I always want you to touch me,” Ben tells him, looking over his shoulder. Armitage nudges him forward, towards the bed.

“And I always want to touch you,” Armitage says. “My beautiful boy.”

Ben can't help the stupid grin that spreads across his face. He feels like he's about to explode, he's so full of warmth. Armitage takes such good care of him. He's soft and undemanding when they're like this, seemingly focused on making them feel good. It's so fucking nice to be wanted for _him_.

He strips off his jeans and boxers and turns to sit on the bed. It's like that first time he was here, Ben naked while Armitage is fully dressed. It sends a thrill down Ben's spine seeing Armitage still so composed while he's hard and leaking.

The big difference between then and now is the expression on Armitage’s face as he looks at Ben. The hunger, the want to wreck Ben is still there but it's tempered by caring. Ben knows his brain could be playing tricks on him, reading too much into things, but in this moment, he's convinced Armitage loves him back. That's the only explanation for the look Armitage gives him.

Armitage takes a step towards him and asks, “How do you want me, love?”

“Fuck,” Ben says. “Um, you did promise to blow me.”

“I did, yes,” Armitage says. He takes another step forward, coming to stand in front of Ben. Ben can see Armitage’s hard on pressing at the front of his jeans. He looks up at Armitage’s smiling face. He feels like he's coming apart at the seams, his very atoms spreading out to compensate for how much he loves Armitage.

Armitage sinks elegantly to his knees, hands coming to rest on Ben’s bare thighs. He rubs his thumbs in soothing circles over Ben's skin as he smiles up at Ben.

“Fuck,” Ben says again. Armitage’s smile sharpens into a smirk and Ben just knows Armitage is going to wreck him. He has every time they've had sex and Ben is already breathing heavily, his dick so hard it hurts.

Armitage leans in and presses a kiss against the very tip of Ben’s cock, more on the ring through it than on skin. Ben can still see the string of precome connecting his dick to Armitage’s upper lip when Armitage pulls away. The head of Ben’s cock is slick with it. He's been oozing precome for ages, waiting for this moment.

Armitage’s tongue flicks out to lick Ben’s precome off his lip and Ben’s breath catches. How hot Armitage is should be illegal. Ben can't fucking stand it. Armitage is unbelievably sexy and somehow, _somehow_ , Ben gets to bear witness to his full glory. He's so fucking lucky.

“Please,” Ben whispers. Armitage brings a hand up to Ben’s cock and strokes him from root to tip and back, slowly, thumb sliding over Ben’s piercing. 

Ben moans and Armitage murmurs, “That's it, lovely,” before wrapping his lips around Ben’s cock. Ben runs the fingers of one hand through Armitage’s loose hair, silently begging for him to take Ben deeper. Armitage doesn't. He teases Ben with his tongue, lapping at his jewelry and his slit, sucking at just the tip. His hand strokes Ben’s shaft delicately, his touch barely there.

“Fuck,” Ben gasps. “Tidge, _please_.”

Armitage hums around him and it is torture. Slowly, he swallows Ben's cock, taking him just a bit deeper with every bob of his head. He keeps his movements languid, blowing Ben almost lazily, like they have all the time in the world.

“I thought you weren't going to tease me,” Ben manages to gasp out. Armitage chuckles and pulls his lips away.

“You said you wanted me to touch you,” he says, smiling deviously as his hand slides softly over Ben’s cock. “I'm touching you.”

Ben flops back across the bed and groans. Armitage laughs and gives Ben a solid squeeze, shifting up and onto his knees. He swallows Ben down again, blowing him in earnest now. Ben sighs a moan. Armitage's mouth on him feels so good, hot and wet, his tongue playing with the jewelry in the head of Ben's cock. Ben props himself up on his elbows to watch his cock disappear between Armitage's lips.

To watch Armitage's shoulder move in time with the bobbing of his head. Knowing Armitage is getting off on this makes Ben groan. He tilts his head back, staring hard at the blank ceiling instead of the glorious image in front of him, trying desperately not to come so this can last longer.

Armitage lets go of Ben's cock to fumbles for one of Ben's hands, sucking down Ben as far as he can. He takes Ben’s hand and pulls Ben forward, placing Ben's hand on the back of his head. Ben slides his fingers through the shorter hair there, petting Armitage, encouraging him. Armitage hums around his mouthful. His eyes are closed and his eyelashes are golden under the light from the overhead lamp.

“Fuck, Tidge,” Ben gasps. Armitage smirks and opens his eyes, looking up at Ben. Ben moans again, “Fuck.”

Ben arches his hips up into Armitage's mouth as he pulls Armitage's head down into his lap. Armitage's hand tightens around the base of Ben's dick and Armitage moans, his eyes fluttering closed. He sucks at Ben hard, tongue pressed tight to the underside of Ben's cock. Ben whimpers and curses again, the hand not on Armitage's head pressed tight against his mouth.

He’s not going to last much longer. Armitage is blowing him with fierce determination, doing everything in his power to overwhelm Ben.

It's working. Ben barely manages to choke out, “Shit, Tidge,” before his orgasm crashes over him. Armitage swallows around him, taking it all, before popping off to lick his lips. He looks entirely pleased, like a cat who got into the cream.

Ben can still see the steady motion of Armitage's shoulder as he strokes himself off. He's not going at it hard, like he wants to get off. Instead, his strokes are lazy, relaxed, like he's in no rush. Ben wants to watch, wants to pull Armitage into his lap and see the velvet pink of Armitage's head peek out of the circle of his fist with every stroke. Before he can verbalize this, Armitage reaches up to touch Ben's face with the hand not on his own dick.

“I want to come on your lovely face,” Armitage says, voice soft. “I want to see you claimed as mine.”

Ben nods dumbly and breathes, “Yeah, yeah okay. Do it.”

Armitage smiles and huffs a small laugh, saying, “I still haven't had a chance to be tested recently.”

“That's okay,” Ben says. “I trust you.”

Armitage's hand stills on his dick, his smile turning a little odd, sad maybe.

“I don't trust me,” Armitage says.

“Okay,” Ben says then gestures to his chest. “Mark me here.”

Armitage smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, still with that odd edge to it, before he tucks his cheek against Ben's thigh, hiding his face. His shoulder rolls, his hand once again stroking his dick. Ben lifts his hand, hovering over the back of Armitage's head for a moment before he runs his fingers over the short hair at the nape of Armitage's neck.

Armitage sighs, “I adore you.”

Ben stills, breath catching in his chest. He did not expect that, those soft words said with such solemn wonder, like the world is going to end and Armitage has only just now figured out what he wants in life. It's not _I love you_ , but it's dangerously close.

“Come up here. Let me see you,” Ben says, brushing his fingers over the edge of Armitage's jaw. Armitage lifts his head and smiles and Ben just knows that this was meant to be.

“Alright,” Armitage says, placing his hands on Ben's thighs to push himself to his feet. He unfolds like a vision before Ben, the skin peeking out of his dark clothing pink and perfect, flushed with pleasure. His cock hangs out of the open v of his fly, his underwear and jeans sitting low on his hips.

He places one hand on Ben's shoulder and climbs into Ben's lap, knees to either side of Ben's hips. Armitage's cock bumps Ben's chest, smearing precome sticky-wet against his skin. Ben automatically goes to hold onto the back of Armitages thighs, hands just above the bend of his knees.

Armitage gently pushes Ben, nudging him down onto his back. Once Ben is laying down, Armitage takes his dick back in hand, slowly stroking himself as he watches Ben's face. Ben can't decide on if he wants to watch Armitage’s hand moving over his dick or Armitage's flushed face as he pants in pleasure. His eyes are dark, lids at half mast, pupils blown wide, and his blow job bruised mouth is slack. He's still so focused on Ben, like Ben is the only thing that exists in his world.

Ben drops his gaze to Armitage's cock, fascinated by the subtly different way Armitage jerks off. He goes all the way from the base to over the head, his thumb and first two fingers closing around it to hide it from view, then back down, faster and faster until he's breathing hard, gasping. 

Ben wants to touch him, wants to have his hands on Armitage's bare skin. He scratches his fingernails over the denim of Armitage's jeans, clawing at them, weighing the pros and cons of stopping Armitage to get him naked. On one hand, he loves looking at Armitage nude, loves touching him everywhere. On the other hand, Armitage hovering over him fully dressed with his shirt rucked up just slightly and his cock out is one of the hottest things Ben has ever seen.

He doesn't get a chance to ruminate long. Armitage's rhythm falters, his hand stuttering over his cock before he gasps and groans and spills himself over Ben's chest and throat. Arousal spikes through Ben; he wants to do the same thing Armitage does to him, wants to fuck Armitage post orgasm while he's shaky and loose. He's definitely not hard enough to do that so soon after coming himself but he _wants_ to.

He stashes the idea away for later as Armitage sighs happily and tucks his softening dick away, sitting back on his heels. His ass settles over Ben’s half hard dick and he smirks.

“Hello there,” Armitage teases, rolling his hips over Ben’s. Ben sucks in a breath. Armitage asks, “Do you want another go?”

Ben squeezes Armitage's thighs and hums in thought before saying, “I want you naked.”

Armitage laughs and says, “Alright,” hands already pulling his shirt over his head. He slips off Ben’s lap to shuck his jeans and underwear, smiling down at Ben. He says, “You know, you look very good like that; naked, on your back, in my bed with my come on you. Absolutely lovely. And all mine, hmm?”

Ben hides his smile and his pleased flush behind his hands, though he still answers, “Yeah.” The more Armitage claims Ben as his in that soft, sweet, _loving_ way, the further away from Snoke the sentiment feels. Armitage has proven over and over that he’s not going to hurt Ben, that he’s not using Ben. Armitage _cares_ for him. Ben knows it, can taste it in the way Armitage kisses him, feels it when they touch.

Armitage places a knee at the edge of the bed, between Ben’s thighs, just below his balls, then folds over Ben to kiss him lightly.

“Let me get something to clean you up with, love,” he says, bumping their foreheads together before pulling away. “I’ll be right back. Go lay on the bed correctly.”

Ben pulls himself up to the pillows and turns so his legs aren’t dangling over the edge of the bed anymore. He folds his hands over his stomach and sighs, content to let Armitage take care of him. It’s nice; nice to trust someone, nice to let go. For a long moment, Ben just _is_. It’s the most relaxed he can remember being in a long time.

Armitage comes back with a warm, damp washcloth and gently wipes away the mess on Ben’s chest before laying down with him. All he has to do is touch Ben’s arm and Ben immediately moves it, lifting it so Armitage can tuck himself against Ben’s ribs.

“Love you,” Ben murmurs.

Armitage gently strokes his fingers along the centerline of Ben’s body and says, “I know.”

\---

Armitage must admit, even though Ben’s job is menial and tedious, it is quite nice watching him throw things around. He’s stripped down to his t-shirt, his hair pulled back into a messy tail, curls escaping to frame his face. His shirt has ridden up a little, exposing a strip of pale back. Armitage leans against the wall opening into the back room and just takes it in, Ben’s body flexing as he and one of his coworkers throw garbage bags of things around.

Armitage had stopped by again after class with hot chocolate for Ben. It had been shitting rain most of the day, the weather cold and overcast and nasty, and Ben had lit up beautifully when Armitage had brought him hot chocolate before. He had, however, managed to arrive when Ben was right in the middle of unloading one of his trucks, so Armitage is stuck waiting for him.

Not that he minds. Ben has always been so incredibly gentle with him. It’s nice to see Ben’s glorious body put to good use.

It’s especially nice because every now and then Ben will look back and _smile_ at Armitage, sweet and bright and brilliant. Armitage can’t believe the mess he’s found himself in, can’t believe he’s actually _dating_ someone, that he didn’t have the self control to keep from seeing Ben over and over. It’s a wonderful mess. He doesn’t know what the future holds but _right now_ , he has everything he wants.

Then there’s some shouting at the front of the store. Ben and his coworker pause just as, “Mister Stevens, code blue,” comes over the PA system. Ben groans and swipes an arm over his sweaty forehead. He turns and peels off his gloves, walking out towards the main floor. He still smiles at Armitage even as the commotion at the front gets louder. Their shoulders bump together as Ben walks by and Armitage automatically reaches up to brush his knuckles against the back of Ben’s shoulder. He turns to follow. He is here to watch Ben, after all.

At the front, a man towers over the pudgy Asian girl who Armitage is reasonably sure is a manager, yelling obscenities. Customers watch as she valiantly stands up to him, telling him to leave even as her chin trembles. Ben walks up to them and looms, arms crossed over his broad chest, sweaty biceps bulging.

“Sir,” he says, deep voice deadly. “You need to leave now.”

The girl slips away as the man turns on Ben. She circles the register to come to where the phone sits, lifting the receiver as Ben repeats himself. The man goes off, bitching colourfully about the most inane things. Ben stands his ground, firmly telling the man to leave.

The colourful bitching blossoms into equally colourful threats and Ben says, “We’ve called the police. Do you want to be here when they arrive?”

The man pauses and shrinks down. The way Ben says, “Leave. Now,” one final time, the man finally slinking out the door, makes Armitage’s knees turn to jelly a little. Armitage adores how soft and sweet Ben is, but how he’s so multifaceted is what drew Armitage to him in the first place. This new dimension, this demanding, domineering, commanding face he’s presented is insanely appealing.

If Ben told Armitage to kneel in that tone of voice, he would without a thought.

The manager flashes Ben a thumbs up, already back on the phone, and Ben turns back towards where Armitage stands. He grins a little sheepishly, brushing some of his loose hair back behind one of his big ears. Armitage can’t help but smile back at him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

\---

 **Ben the Former Stalker**  
Hey rey told me about a thing where we can stream movies at the same time and we video chat and stuff.  
She does it with her boyfriend all the time.  
Would you like to do that sometime?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Sure. I have a lot of schoolwork to do, but if you don’t mind me multitasking I’d be happy to.

 **Ben the Former Stalker**  
Yeah that sounds fine.  
Ill look into getting it set up.

\---

Ben gets the streaming service worked out, starting up _Cosmos_ where they left off when Armitage was at his house previously. Armitage’s lips quirk up and Ben says, “Since you said documentaries are good background noise for when you work.”

His voice sounds different through the computer, tinny and ever so slightly distorted. The deepest notes don’t quite come through, which is a little sad. Armitage adores how Ben’s voice rumbles out of him.

The show runs for a little while, Ben likely paying more attention to it than Armitage is. Then Ben asks what Armitage is working on so Armitage gives him a simple rundown of the paperwork he’s doing.

Ben hums and says, “You’re so smart.”

“So are you,” Armitage says. “Why aren’t you in school?”

Armitage looks over at his screen, watching Ben shrug with the shoulder he’s not laying on. He says, “Bad memories, I guess. I wasn’t that great at school to begin with and now dealing with new people stresses me out really bad, especially like, if they’re in a position of power over me so like…” Ben trails off and shrugs again, eyes downcast. 

Armitage thinks he understands. He spends a lot of his time at school trying to make teachers like him since his father won’t accept anything less than the best, and if Ben doesn’t handle authority well then he is not quite suited to excel in higher education.

“There are a great many universities that have their curriculum online for people to go through at their leisure,” Armitage says, turning back to his papers. “Maybe that could be an option if you want to apply yourself to something—” Armitage pauses, thinking over his words before continuing, “—in addition to your job now.”

“Yeah maybe,” Ben says. Then he snorts and adds, “Good job not belittling what I do now.”

“I do try,” Armitage says dryly, fighting a smile. Ben laughs, bright and happy.

“I do like my job,” he says. “It’s… I don’t have to think about it really. It’s nice.”

“And it’s quite a work out, judging from your physique.”

Ben laughs again and says, “Eh. I go to the gym too.”

Armitage does smile at that, glancing over to where Ben’s image is on his laptop screen. The light from Ben’s own laptop screen washes out his pale skin, making the moles dotting his body stand out like stars. Armitage can really only see him from the collar bone up, his head pillowed on one arm, his dark hair void black in the low light, such a contrast from his lily white skin.

“Your hard work has paid off,” Armitage says. “You’re quite fit.”

“That is the point of working out, to get fit.”

Armitage laughs and says, “No fit like, like attractive. British slang.”

“I know,” Ben, the shit, says, grinning. Armitage laughs some more. Then Ben says, softly, sweetly, “I love your laugh.”

Armitage tucks his cheek into one palm, hopefully hiding how he flushes at Ben’s words. He wiggles his pen between his fingers and looks sidelong at his laptop screen. Ben is watching him with _that look_ , the one that makes Armitage swell with pride when it’s turned on him, a nonverbal admission of love. Armitage adores that stupid, sappy face Ben makes. It makes him feel like he could do anything. It makes him feel like the world is unfolding in front of him and he could just… take the whole thing for himself.

“You,” Armitage says, “are a sap.”

Ben chuckles softly and says, “Yeah.”

“Now be quiet. I have work to do.”

Armitage can still hear the smile in Ben’s voice when he says, “Yes, sir.”

Ben is quiet the rest of the episode. Halfway through the next, Armitage finishes the rough draft of his paper. He looks over at his laptop screen, ready to tell Ben that they can talk now, only to see Ben with his nose tucked into the crook of his elbow, eyes closed. Armitage pauses _Cosmos_ , leaving just Ben’s soft snores coming through his speakers. 

Armitage should wake Ben up. His lights are still on and he should probably put away his laptop so he doesn’t knock it to the floor. Instead, Armitage folds his arms over his coffee table and lays his head down, watching Ben.

He likes this, this weird domesticity they have fallen into. He likes seeing Ben so relaxed around him that he just dozes off. He likes knowing that Ben is comfortable with him. It’s taken work, from both of them, but Armitage thinks it’s worth it. That is what a relationship is about, after all; working on things to make each other happy. 

Armitage still can’t quite believe that he actually agreed to date Ben. He really shouldn’t have, but Ben was so sweet then, anxious and worried. Armitage probably could have declined and still have fucked Ben, but he finds more and more that he doesn’t want to deny Ben anything. By then, Armitage had already been hiding Ben for almost five months and he didn’t, doesn’t want to end this. He merely accepted the inevitable.

It’s been almost five months and his father still hasn’t found out. Armitage hopes desperately that they’re being discreet enough, that his father _won’t_ find out about them, at least not before Armitage finishes school and finds a job. Six more months, that’s all he needs. Six months and it won’t matter anymore. He’ll have graduated and will hopefully have a job in six months. It’ll be _fine_. He’ll be able to do whatever he wants.

And he wants Ben.

\---

“How are your boy troubles?” Sonya asks as they settle in her office. Ben laughs a little.

“Great? I, we agreed that we’re dating.”

“That’s great!” she exclaims, clasping her hands together. She’s smiling her proud big sister smile. Ben laughs some more and ducks his head. Sonya cocks her head and asks, “Is sex with him still stressing you out?”

Ben shrugs and says, “A little, I guess? I’m nowhere near as anxious as I was at the start, but it’s still a lot. Tidge has been very… patient, I guess, and he does his best to not push me, which I really appreciate.” Sonya nods and Ben fidgets for a moment before continuing. “Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t double check so much. It makes me feel like, like I’m fragile.”

“I can see how that can be frustrating,” Sonya says. “Have you told him this?”

“No.” Ben rubs one hand over his face. “I don’t think I want him to stop ‘cause like, I know that sometimes I’ll agree to whatever he wants without thinking about it, so him double checking is nice too.”

Sonya nods and types notes into her computer as she says, “You should still talk to him about this. Maybe the two of you could figure out a system that allows the two of you to go about things without interrupting the natural flow. There are a lot of resources on this type of communication in the BDSM community. Maybe you could start there and do some research.”

It’s Ben’s turn to nod, firmly ignoring how his therapist is familiar with BDSM practices. 

“Anything else you wanted to talk about today?” Sonya asks. Ben licks his lips and plants his hands on his knees. Something immediately pops to mind; it’s been eating at him for ages but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it because that might make it real. However, he knows this is a safe space. Anything he says here doesn’t leave this room. Sonya is a void he can shout into, his innermost thoughts never escaping.

“I’m, I’m worried I’m fixated on Tidge,” Ben finally says. “I love him. I think I love him, and it feels _right_ but it’s intense and all-consuming and basically all I’ve talked about this entire time is him so like, do I _really_ or is my brain just being stupid?”

Sonya nods and makes a few more notes before turning back to Ben and saying, “That’s pretty natural with your particular brain chemistry. BPD can make all of your emotions feel overwhelmingly strong, you know that. This is a new situation so you haven’t yet figured out how to handle these emotions, but I’m confident you will. This whole thing might have also triggered a hypomanic phase because yay! Exciting! New!” Ben laughs and Sonya grins at him, continuing, “There are a couple of alternative explanations for your feelings, so don’t worry so much. And if you are just fixated on him and it wears off? That’s okay too. Most relationships don’t last forever. If things end, they end, but you’ll be left with good memories.”

\---

Ben sees that telltale flash of copper from across the ballroom, Armitage standing tall with a drink in hand in a neat tux. He’s standing by a man about as tall as him with a bit of a beer gut and a big moustache, his hair gone grey. From the way Armitage stands smartly at attention, Ben figures this is his dad.

Ben wants to go over and say hi but he’s here to shadow his mom, to show that she’s on the side of the majority, the common man and the weird kids. It’s still early. Maybe their paths will cross at some point.

His eyes keep being drawn back to Armitage, his hair bright amid all the black and white of everyone else. Armitage looks so handsome in his tux. The sharp shoulder seams make him seem ever so slightly broader, the stark white of his shirt’s collar making his skin look pink and lively. The jacket tapers down to button at his narrow waist, just where Ben likes to hold on to him. The legs of his trousers have a perfect crease pressed into them and the hem breaks over his shoes just right. He’s a vision among the stuffy politicians filling the ballroom, prim and proper.

He looks better than Ben, who has a love bite just peeking out over the collar of his own shirt, though Ben is really proud of how he found a tie with a subtle satin stitch damask pattern on it that matches the one on his jacket almost perfectly. He had gone with black on black for tonight, subtle shine over matte. He really wants to get close enough to Armitage to show off the details of his outfit, how the silver planchet weights in his ears match his planchet tie pin and little silver ouija board cufflinks, playing off the damask like it’s Victorian wallpaper.

Ben thinks he manages to catch Armitage’s eye, but Armitage looks away so quickly he can’t be sure.

Almost an hour of schmoozing after spotting Armitage, Ben’s mom turns to him during a lull in conversations to say, “Armitage looks quite handsome tonight, doesn’t he?”

Ben can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face as he says, “Yeah, he really does.”

Mom smiles that sharp, teasing smile she has and adds, “He’s always quite handsome though, hmm?”

Ben feels the flush warming his cheeks, agreeing for him as he ducks his head. His mom backhands him affectionately across the ribs.

“Let’s go say hello, shall we?”

She leads the way, five-foot-two in her kitten heels, cutting through the crowd as he follows behind her a pace or two. She’s already turned her winning politician’s smile on Armitage and his dad by the time he stops by her shoulder, her hand held out politely.

“Brendol, hello,” she says brightly, seemingly content to ignore the way Armitage’s dad’s eyes narrow just slightly. He takes her hand and greets her by name as they shake. Mom adds, “This is my son, Ben. I’m not sure if you’ve met.”

They haven’t and Mom knows that but it’s a gentle way to introduce him without shoving him in Hux Senior’s face. Ben holds out his own hand to shake, smiling nervously as he says, “Um, hello. It’s a pleasure.”

Ben most definitely does not miss the way Armitage’s dad looks a little disgusted to be shaking hands with him. His smile only wobbles a little bit as he forces himself to maintain eye contact, doing what he can to make the best impression possible. When they part, Hux Senior does not introduce Armitage at all.

Does… Armitage talk to his dad about Ben? Is that why his dad didn’t introduce him? Armitage says his dad’s an asshole but Ben’s dad is a bit of an asshole too sometimes and Ben’s still told him about Armitage. Was that face Hux Senior made just a regular disapproving dad face? Ben’s never _dated_ anyone before and he knows his own dad would be enthusiastically jolly if introduced to anyone Ben dates. How does this even go for normal people?

Hux Senior talks brusquely with Ben’s mom, small talk just on the edge of polite. Ben doesn’t much pay attention to politics or the people his mom interacts with—it depresses him most of the time—but if Ben had to guess, he’d say Armitage’s dad is a tad conservative, especially when compared to his mom. Ben’s attention slides from their parents over to Armitage himself.

Armitage seems enraptured by their parents’ discussion. He looks so handsome up close, focused on the conversation going right over Ben’s head. Ben almost never sees him like this, with his hair slicked back, but it suits him, makes him seem sharper and more severe, but like, in a good way, a sexy way. It makes his cheekbones stand out, makes Ben want to plant a kiss right there on the point of one where the skin is thinnest over bone, makes Ben want to wrap around him and wreck his carefully constructed appearance. Maybe Ben could lure Armitage over to the bathrooms where they could quietly kiss. Maybe Ben could get on his knees for Armitage there, to mouth at his dick through those perfectly pressed trousers, to suck him down until Armitage’s knees are weak and he’s coming down Ben’s throat, so that Ben can hold onto the memory of having him like this, when he’s all posh and polished. 

Ben’s so lost in his little fantasy that he almost misses the way Armitage glances his way but he doesn’t miss the disapproving frown. It’s not even a full scowl, like Ben fucked up and Armitage is actually angry with him. No, it’s a small change in Armitage’s expression, like Ben is worthless and beneath him, and it’s _so different_ from how Armitage usually looks at him that Ben’s breath catches. It’s like he’s run into his boyfriend’s evil twin. 

He can’t help but stare wide-eyed at Armitage as Armitage goes back to paying attention to his father. It fucking _hurts_ , spiking into his chest like a stake directly to the heart, to be dismissed like that, like he’s _nothing_. His chest tightens around his broken heart and he struggles to keep his breathing even.

Maybe, Ben tells himself, Armitage was just trying to share a conspiratorial look, that the contempt was aimed at the political talk their parents are having. Ben knows Armitage is not always nice, that sometimes he’s downright cruel, just not with him, not since that first time at the bar. _Maybe_ Armitage is just being a dick at Ben because of his dad.

Ben wants to press against Armitage and _ask_ , wants physical comfort as well as verbal confirmation that Ben is not the problem. He wants to hold the hand of his impeccably dressed boyfriend and draw strength from that because he is ticking up into a panic attack, nevermind that his asshole boyfriend is the one who caused all this.

He barely catches Armitage’s dad making an out with the part of his brain not panicking, deftly removing himself and Armitage from Ben and his mom’s vicinity. As they turn away, Ben catches Armitage glancing at him again, wincing a little, and Ben’s heart sinks even further.

Mom maintains her perfected public smile until the Huxs are well out of earshot before mumbling to herself, or maybe to Ben, “What an asshole.” Then she turns her head and smiles softly at Ben, adding, “Brendol, not Armitage.”

She must have missed it, missed the look Armitage had given him. Either she missed it or it wasn’t real. Ben hates when his brain plays tricks on him, when it reads too much into things and sends him the wrong information, but he hopes that’s what happened this time. Now that it’s over, it seems so far away, so _fake_. There’s no way Armitage, his sweet, caring boyfriend, who brings him hot chocolate at work when the weather’s shit and who kisses away all his problems, could ever be so callous towards him. There’s just _no way_.

His mom does not miss the hurt on his face. She reaches up to touch his cheek and smiles, saying, “Ignore Brendol. There’s nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do to make him like you.”

Ben gives her a watery smile. She pats his cheek, like her words were actually reassuring, then turns away to lead them off to her next conversation. Ben tries his best to put the whole thing out of his mind, convinced that he read things wrong. 

He still wants comfort. He still wants to press close to Armitage and have his worries kissed away. He wants to touch his boyfriend’s handsome face and lean against his warm body and smell his cologne and just _be there_ with him, together, even if they’re hidden away in a bathroom stall for a stolen moment. He keeps looking over at Armitage, watching him circle the floor of politicians with his father much the same way Ben is doing.

Their paths don’t cross again, not until Ben sees Armitage leave his dad’s side and wander off towards the bathrooms. Ben touches his mom’s shoulder to get her attention and murmurs, “Be right back,” before he follows Armitage into the short hall leading to the bathrooms.

He catches Armitage just as he’s leaving the men’s room. Armitage pauses when he sees him, then narrows his eyes and says, “Fuck off, Ben. Don’t talk to me here.”

Ben just stares at his boyfriend in horror, eyes wide, mouth slack, his chest constricting like there’s iron bands around his heart. Armitage frowns, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he looks away. Ben should say something, _anything_ to keep this from happening but he can’t get any air into his lungs. His throat just clicks with dismay and then Armitage is striding past him purposefully, head held high, not even looking at him. Ben watches him go miserably.

He crams the heel of his palm against his watering eye just in time to catch the first tear. He wipes it away, dragging his hand against his face harder than he probably should, and ducks into the bathroom, slamming into one of the stalls. There, he digs out his phone. Tears dot his screen as he types out a message to his dad first, a plea to be picked up, then one to his mom to let her know he’s leaving.

He sits on the toilet and folds over, head in one hand, phone in the other, very carefully breathing. Tears still fall from his eyes, dripping from his lashes and the tip of his nose. He couldn’t stop them if he tried and he has bigger things to worry about, like what the _fuck_ just happened with Armitage. 

Ben was… dismissed. That’s the best way to put it. Armitage has apparently had his fill of him. He’s done with Ben and Ben doubts there’s anything he could do about it. After all, Armitage doesn’t _date_. He fucks people then leaves them. That’s exactly what he’s done to Ben.

\---

Armitage can’t follow his father’s conversations anymore. His head is firmly back with Ben, in the hall to the toilets, where he was probably too mean.

Except there’s no _probably_. He was definitely too mean, sharp and cutting, the only way he truly knows how to be. It’s not that he didn’t want to see Ben—Ben looks gorgeous tonight, all in black, with big, silver ouija board pointers weighing down his stretched ears and his hair pulled back into a complicated braid, showing off the entirety of his handsome face. He just… he can’t be seen around Ben here, not where his father could witness their relationship first hand.

So he was meaner than he needed to be. He’ll apologize and everything will be fine. He’s been mean to Ben before. It’ll be _fine_.

He can’t help but stare as Ben walks out of the ballroom half an hour later, head down, face a blotchy, miserable red.

\---

Armitage doesn’t know how to apologize. Just going _Sorry, I was a prick_ via text is most definitely not enough, not knowing that Ben probably spent that half hour in the toilet crying. He’s made this poor boy cry so many times. He’s sure he’ll never stop because he is a complete and utter _bastard_. 

He doesn’t dare tell Phasma about it, not until he absolutely has to. She’ll force it out of him Sunday at practice, he’s sure, but until then, he keeps his mistake to himself. He knows what she’ll say anyway; she’ll tell him to apologize and he _knows_ he should do that, he just doesn’t know _how_. He spends three days pacing his apartment, practically pulling out his hair, almost in tears himself.

This is quite possibly the worst thing he’s ever done, worse than every lie he’s told his father, worse than every lie he’s told himself. He’s probably ruined things completely, just fucked them all to hell.

“You’ve really buggered things,” Mitaka says after Phasma stares him down and makes him spill at practice. 

Armitage rubs his hands over his face, sighing, “I really have.”

“You should have just apologized immediately,” Phasma tells him. “You were right by the loo. You could have pulled him in and told him everything in private.”

“I couldn’t, I couldn’t risk someone walking in on us,” he says, his protest sounding feeble even to himself. Phasma levels him with a cold look,

“Then you should have texted him when you got home. You let that poor boy run away _crying_ , Tidge.”

Armitage heart hurts just remembering. He says, “I know,” sounding absolutely miserable himself.

“Why didn’t you?” Mitaka asks, his voice free of the icy venom in Phasma’s.

“I, I couldn’t think of anything good enough to say.”

Phasma sighs and says, “You’re an idiot. You’re an absolute bloody moron.”

“I know that! Tell me how to fix it!”

“I don’t know if you can!” Phasma snaps. “You’ve really cocked it up, Tidge, and I can’t fix it for you.”

Armitage flops back across the floor with a groan.

“Maybe buy him flowers?” Mitaka suggests.

\---

Armitage sent him flowers. Ben gets home after work a week after the disastrous charity dinner to see a big bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath sitting in a vase on the island, a small card in a white envelope with his name on it sticking out on a little plastic spear and he just _knows_ they’re from Armitage. His hands shake as he plucks the card out of it, his eyes already stinging. The card inside is elegant, thick white cardstock with a little gold foil border, and on it it just says _Please come to our next show._ in precise, blocky script. That’s it, just those six words, no apology, no justification, no name, just _please_.

Ben takes a deep breath. He wants to just dump the flowers out into the trash, wants to fling them and the vase at the wall, wants to tell Armitage to go fuck himself. Instead, he tucks the card back into its little envelope and sticks it back in the flowers, turning towards the stairs to go to his room. He’ll sleep on it and deal with it in the morning.

He ends up curled around his phone in bed, thumbing through his old messages with Armitage, reading over all the sweet good morning texts with wet eyes. The white hot flare of anger has already burned through him, leaving him tired and empty. Now he wants to text Armitage _sorry_ , wants to apologize for any thing he did to deserve Armitage’s ire, because he _must_ have done _something_. He’s spent the last week running over the whole thing in his head over and over, trying to pick out what went wrong. He just can’t figure it out.

He can’t figure _Armitage_ out. Just when he thought he was starting to understand his boyfriend—his _ex_ boyfriend, he’s thrown a new variable and he’s not the one good at math. It took him _six months_ to be reasonably confident that Armitage liked him and even then, apparently he was wrong. 

He shoves his palm against one eye then the other, wiping away the tears trembling on his lashes, prepared to just cry himself to sleep yet again.

\---

The First Order is playing on a Saturday, later in the evening. It’s a bigger show, with a handful of the local punk bands playing all together. Ben usually skips this type of show, especially since it’s more out of the way coming from his house than his work, but…

Armitage did ask. He sent flowers. Maybe he wants to apologize on neutral ground. Maybe he wants to make it up to Ben. Ben doesn’t know how he could, can’t imagine what Armitage could say that would make up for him being such a _dick_ , but then Armitage walks on stage with his guitar and his pale eyes zero in on Ben and he looks so completely, utterly _relieved_. It makes Ben’s heart soar, stupidly hopeful.

They play through their usual songs then, just when Ben thinks they’re done, Armitage counts off the start of another, hand coming down to point directly at Ben on _one_. An unfamiliar beat thrums through the bar, then Armitage’s voice comes in, plaintive. He’s staring straight at Ben, holding eye contact as he sings.

It’s a love song. It’s about _him_ , about them, about the manic mess their relationship has been, _bloody lips, hungry kisses_ , on and on until Ben’s eyes sting yet a-fucking-gain, his chin and his hands trembling.

The song finishes with Armitage singing _this taste of happiness I don’t deserve, it was supposed to be so simple, but fuck me, I love you_. The drums fall away, leaving just the last note of Phasma’s bass ringing in the air. Ben jams the heels of his palms against his eyes, taking out his frustration, his _anger_ on his face. He presses hard enough to hurt as the crowded bar echos with applause.

When Ben looks back up, Armitage is gone, The First Order clearing the stage for the next band. He’s breathing hard, shaking with every emotion he’s capable of feeling, full of them, sick from them. He’s not sure what will come up if he opens his mouth, a scream or vomit or his very soul. 

Phasma looks at him as she helps cart Dopheld’s drums out and jerks her head to the side, signaling _come on_. Ben doesn’t know if he should, doesn’t know if he _can_. He’s rooted to the spot, overwhelmed. Then Armitage comes back to pick up the last piece of the drum set and Ben gets up.

They’re just closing the back doors to Phasma’s van when Ben finds them, shouting, “What the _fuck_!”

Armitage takes one step towards him, hands out, face soft and sad, and starts with, “Ben, love—”

Ben doesn’t give him a chance. He _shouldn’t_ give him a chance, not after what he did at the charity dinner. Armitage didn’t give him a chance then; it’s only fair.

“You don’t get to do shit like this!” Ben snaps. “You don’t get to tell me to fuck off then beg me to come back and make some big fucking love declaration in front of god damned everyone who’s even remotely familiar with you!”

Armitage’s lips flatten out into a thin line as he looks down, guilty. Phasma and Mitaka slink away, leaving them alone, not that that will help. Ben’s sure he’s loud enough for the entire world to hear.

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Ben asks. Armitage bites his lip but says nothing. Ben presses, “ _Well_?”

“I—I’m sorry.”

Ben’s going to punch him. His fists are clenched by his sides, his nails digging in to his palms. He’s going to _punch him_ right in his miserable face. He’s going to break Armitage’s nose and bruise his own knuckles and there will be blood and gore. Armitage fucking deserves it, deserves to be as broken as Ben is. His fists shake. His entire body is tight.

He snaps a leg out and kicks a trash can halfway down the alley, garbage arching out.

“That’s not good enough!” Ben bellows.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Armitage shouts back. “That I’m an asshole? That I fucked everything up? I am! I _did_! I’m a miserable fucking idiot and I hurt the person I care about most and I’m _sorry_. I’m so fucking sorry, Ben.”

Then he says, quietly, eyes downcast, “I love you.”

Ben whirls around and slams his fist into the wall, once, twice, before a hand grabs his wrist.

“Stop that,” Armitage snaps, and he's right there, so close. Ben just stares at him for a long moment, watching his scowl and the wind ruffling his hair. Armitage asks, voice sharp, “Are you done?”

Ben’s anger seeps away. His hand throbs and his eyes burn. Armitage stares him down, the cold look on his face thawing when Ben nods.

“I’m sorry,” Armitage repeats. Ben nods again, lips quivering. The first tear drips free, sliding down Ben’s face. Armitage murmurs, “Oh, love,” and gathers him up in a hug, pulling Ben close. He repeats his apology again, softly, into Ben’s ear. Ben nods against Armitage's shoulder and sniffs.

Ben doesn't want to ever let go. He _missed_ Armitage, missed his body and his voice and the way he smells and the way he feels and everything about him. Holding onto Armitage, being _held_ by Armitage feels like the last piece of him has been slotted into place.

“I'm sorry,” Ben says. “I missed you.”

Armitage squeezes him tight and says, “I missed you too.”

Then Armitage pulls away, hands on Ben’s cheeks, and _looks_ at him. His eyes are shiny, wet like he's going to cry too. Ben’s chin wobbles and he sniffs and Armitage tugs him in for a kiss.

The kiss is hard and desperate, their teeth clacking together. Armitage snakes his tongue between Ben’s lips, claiming him, and Ben feels whole again.

He brings his hands from the small of Armitage's back to his shoulders, grabbing on only to hiss and pull away when his hand screams a complaint.

“Let me see your hand,” Armitage says, stepping away from their embrace. He takes Ben’s throbbing hand carefully, turning it to look at his split knuckles. Ben winces as Armitage uncurls his fingers, stretching them out to test the extent of the damage.

“Alright,” he says. “I'm taking you to the A-and-E.” His tone leaves no room for argument. He looks up at Ben and asks, “Where did you park?”

\---

They don't talk on the way to the emergency room. They don't talk as Ben clumsily signs in with his off hand. There are so many things that still need to be said and Ben doesn't know where to start, but Armitage is there by his side, posessively holding on to his undamaged hand.

“My father doesn't like that I'm gay,” Armitage murmurs, the first thing he's said in almost an hour. He laughs bitterly and corrects, “That's an understatement. My father is a raging homophobe. He, for the most part, ignores my dalliances as long as I keep them discreet, but you… you’re—” He cuts off and sighs before starting again. “I don’t date because I _can’t_ , I’m not allowed to really. Dating someone under normal circumstances would be hard, but you’re the son of someone my father knows and _really does not like_ , so it’s worse and I can’t, I don’t know what he’d do if he found out.” Armitage laughs again, full of resentment that Ben knows is aimed at his father. He says, “Disown me, certainly. Then I’d be left unable to pay for _anything_. I haven’t got any real world experience. All I know is school and daddy’s money.”

Ben squeezes Armitage’s hand in his and Armitage brings them up to his lips to kiss Ben’s knuckles.

“Would it be easier to… not do this?” Ben asks.

Armitage sighs, “Probably,” before finally looking at Ben again. He says, very firmly, “I don’t want to end this though.”

Ben’s eyes well up again. He doesn’t know how to answer, just stares at Armitage with his wet eyes and wobbly mouth.

A nurse calls his name, startling them. Ben pulls away and wipes his eyes, standing.

\---

His hand is, thankfully, not broken. He’s bruised down to the bone, and will be tender and stiff for a good long while. His hand has been cleaned of blood and grit, wrapped in gauze. It sits limp in his lap as Armitage drives them away from the ER. They haven’t continued their earlier conversation.

Armitage’s words rattle around Ben’s brain. It explains so much: _it was just a fuck_ and _I don’t fuck someone more than once_ and _I’ve never had a boyfriend_. It explains the polos and the lack of mods and the hair parted so neatly it looks like he used a ruler. It explains everything about the charity dinner, the sharp looks and sharper words.

Armitage parks and Ben looks up. They’re outside Armitage’s apartment and Armitage is looking at Ben like he might bolt, like Armitage himself might bolt, like either one of them could run and never come back.

“Will you come in?” Armitage asks. His eyes are tired and sad, red-rimmed, and he chews on his lips as he waits for Ben’s answer. His septum retainer is a little crooked. Ben doesn’t know why he zeroes in on that but it’s better than looking at the rest of Armitage’s face and seeing how upset he is. Armitage takes a deep breath and adds, “I would really like it if you came in. Please?”

Ben nods slowly and Armitage smiles, just the tiniest bit.

“Thank you,” Armitage sighs. He’s out and around the car by the time Ben has undone his seatbelt, opening the door for him. Ben steps out and Armitage immediately takes his good hand, glued to his side as they walk the half block to Armitage’s door. He unlocks it. They step inside. Armitage hangs both his and Ben’s keys on the hook by the door before going to undo his boots. Ben follows him on autopilot, awkward with just one hand.

Everything feels murky, like Ben’s skull is full of molasses. Every emotion has been wrung out of him and now he just wants to lie down, right here on the floor, and sleep for a million years. Somehow, he manages to follow Armitage to his room, dragging his feet along the carpet.

Armitage pushes at Ben’s jacket first, sliding it down Ben’s arms. Ben hisses as the leather catches on his bruised knuckles and Armitage murmurs, “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” stepping in close to kiss Ben’s cheek. His jacket falls to the floor and Armitage starts on his own. Ben watches his deft fingers slide each button out of its hole before he shrugs out of it and drops it to the floor too. Then he goes after Ben’s hoodie, carefully pulling the arm over Ben’s knuckles.

They don’t say anything as Armitage undresses them. He nudges Ben over until he leans against his bed, then ducks down to pull off Ben’s socks, hands warm around Ben’s ankles. Ben closes his eyes, sighing when Armitage kisses his hip.

“Lie down with me?” Armitage asks. If Ben had any emotions left at all, he might hate how timid Armitage sounds, like Ben is going to deny him this now. He’s empty though, so he just climbs up on the bed and lies down. 

Armitage joins him, pressing close, gathering Ben up against his chest. Ben’s bruised hand flops over Armitage’s back as Armitage wraps one arm around Ben’s ribs, tucking his head under Ben’s chin.

“Thank you,” Armitage whispers, “for, for coming back to me.” Then, even quieter, he adds, “I don’t want to lose you.”

A tear sneaks its way out of the corner of Ben’s eye, sliding over the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even think he had anything left.

\---

Ben doesn’t remember falling asleep. He wakes up, drained, face down in Armitage’s bed with his head and his hand throbbing. He feels _wretched_ , sick, filled to the brim with emotions all over again. 

Armitage has his forehead pressed against Ben’s shoulder. He’s tracing mindless patterns with the tip of his fingers across Ben’s bare back. 

“I didn’t take my meds last night,” Ben says, stating fact, mostly to himself.

“Shit,” Armitage says. “Will you be alright?”

Ben lets out a short laugh and says, “This is probably the worst time to forget that one.”

“I’m sorry,” Armitage says, burrowing his face into Ben’s arm. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

“It’s—I’ll survive. I’ve managed the last couple of weeks as a mess. I can handle an extra day.”

Armitage mumbles another apology, almost lost against Ben’s skin. Ben doesn’t want to assure him that it’s alright, that it’ll be alright, because he’s sure the only thing keeping him together the last couple of weeks has been his mood stabilizer and the exhausting routine of work and now he doesn’t have either of them to lean on. He’s missed doses before but never when he’s been as messed up as he is now. Even when he’s doing well, missing a dose makes his emotions flip out.

Ben hides his face further into the pillow. He’s just going to sleep the day away.

From the floor, Armitage’s cat meows, louder than any cat Ben has ever heard. Armitage groans, pressing closer before pulling away.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, rolling off the bed. “Come on, you terror.”

The cat meows again, her screaming growing quieter as they move out to the front room. A couple minutes later, Armitage crawls back into bed with him, kissing across his shoulder. It reminds Ben of the first time he stayed the night, of how perfect that night was. He sighs and rolls onto his side.

Armitage immediately presses close, nudging their foreheads together, one hand on Ben’s cheek. He can feel Armitage’s dick against his hip, half hard between them. It feels nice, solid, _there_. Something he can focus on.

He rolls their hips together, watching Armitage’s lips part as he gasps. It hurts for Ben to grab on to Armitage’s asscheek, pulling them tighter together, but it’s worth it for the way Armitage’s cock thickens and throbs.

Armitage pushes Ben with his body, rolling him onto his back, climbing on top of him. He slots one thigh between Ben’s and hovers over him.

“Are you alright?” Armitage asks, eyes soft.

“No,” Ben tells him truthfully. He’s not. He’s overflowing, drowning in his own head. He rolls his hips against Armitage’s and pleads, “Distract me.”

Armitage nods and lowers himself fully, mouth immediately gravitating to Ben’s. He kisses Ben softly, chastly, even as their dicks rub together. Ben’s the one who deepens the kiss, sucking on Armitage’s bottom lip, pressing his tongue into Armitage’s mouth. He buries his good hand into Armitage’s hair, holding him close.

It takes less time than Ben thought it would for him to harden. He’s straining against his underwear, groaning into Armitage’s mouth, not more than a couple of minutes later.

“Love you,” Armitage murmurs against Ben’s mouth. “My beautiful boy.”

Ben’s chest tightens like he’s going to panic. He kisses Armitage harder, desperate to think about anything else, anything but the way his emotions boil inside him.

Armitage kisses the corner of Ben’s mouth, his jaw, his throat. He’s too gentle, too soft, so Ben gasps, “Bite me.”

Armitage pauses for a beat before he sinks his teeth into the juncture between Ben’s shoulder and neck. Ben sucks in a sharp breath, body jerking, then moans as Armitage soothes away the sting of his bite with soft kisses. He bites Ben again, a little farther along his shoulder, making Ben whimper. It _hurts_. It’s the most physical pain Armitage has dealt him, stinging bites that will for sure turn into angry bruises, the arches of Armitage’s teeth visible on his skin.

It’s exactly what Ben wants. Dimly, he’s aware that this is not good. Pain as a distraction, even at the hand of someone else, when he’s so fucked up on the inside is a bad plan, but it’s his only plan. He can’t handle Armitage being gentle with him, not right now, not when he still hurts so much. He’s been _good_ the past couple of weeks, wall punching aside; there are no rows of scabby lines, no bruises in the shape of his knuckles. It’s just gotten to be too much.

Ben’s chest is still tight. He’s breathing harder than just sex would account for, shaking. He can feel the puddle of precome that’s slick along his hip, can feel the scratch of his boxers against his dick as he ruts against Armitage, can feel Armitage’s breath tickling the wet smears of spit across Ben’s shoulder.

“Fuck me,” Ben begs. He wants to get lost in his body, wants to sink into the touch of another instead of the angry sea of his emotions, wants to let Armitage take the only thing Ben has to give.

Armitage nuzzles Ben’s neck and kisses the side of his throat, asking, “Are you sure?”

“Quit being so fucking _nice_ and just _use me_!” Ben snaps.

Armitage pulls away, eyes narrowed, _angry_ , and Ben is certain Armitage is going to slap him across the face.

“ _No_ ,” he says instead, so forcefully it punches the air out of Ben’s lungs. Ben’s lip trembles and then he’s gasping, sobbing, tears welling up in his eyes. Armitage pets his cheek and shushes him, saying, “No, no love. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“What do you _want_ from me?” Ben asks through his tears.

“You,” Armitage says. “Happy and whole.”

Ben’s face crumples. He pulls Armitage to him, presses his forehead against Armitage’s shoulder, and sobs.

“You fuck,” Ben gasps. “You _asshole_.”

Armitage pets Ben’s hair, his jaw, his neck, nose against the crown of Ben’s head while Ben shudders under the force of his emotions. It’s been over half a year and Ben still can’t believe that Armitage wants him for _him_ , wants his messed up, disaster self, even though Armitage proves it over and over again. 

“I know, I know,” Armitage murmurs soothingly. “Shall I go fetch Millie?”

Ben chokes on a laugh, then lets it bubble up out of his throat. He says, “You dick. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

\---

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
I have my test results.

 **Ben The Former Stalker**  
What test results?

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
For my STI panel. I went in while we were apart. Although now that I’ve said something I realize now probably isn’t the best time to talk about that.

 **Ben The Former Stalker**  
Now isnt the best time for most things.  
Itll take a couple of days for me to stop being so fucked up after missing a dose.  
More because of.  
Everything.

 **Armitage Fucking Hux**  
Yes, I figured that might be the case.  
But it’s happened, for when you’re feeling better.

 **Ben The Former Stalker**  
Okay.

\---

Sonya doesn’t ask him what happened to his hand until they’re safely in her office. His half-hearted attempt at a joke, saying, “Got in a fight with a brick wall,” does not go over well. She just tilts her head and stares him down until he sighs.

“Armitage and I had—” he pauses as he tries to think of the best way to describe what went down, then says, “A misunderstanding. He said—apparently his dad’s a homophobe? _And_ he doesn’t like my mom so dating me is probably a bad plan. We ran into each other at a thing our parents dragged us too and it, it _really_ did not go well. I don’t think his dad knows we’ve been involved yet but…” Ben trails off, shrugging one shoulder as he stares at the industrial grey carpet under foot.

“What do the two of you think will happen if his father finds out?” Sonya asks, face neutral but head still tilted curiously. Ben shrugs again

“Tidge thinks he’ll be disowned, which I can absolutely see. His dad’s an asshole.”

Sonya nods and says, “It might be good to make a plan for if that happens, just in case. That is, assuming you’re still together?”

“I, I haven’t decided,” Ben says. He sucks his lip rings between his teeth, then adds, “I still love him. I understand why he was a dick to me. I just, it _hurt_. He was a dick, then he sent me roses, _then_ he sang a personal love song to me while on stage in front of a crowded bar and I just, I was so _angry_.” Ben sighs and rubs his hands across his face, then corrects himself. “Maybe I wasn’t angry. I was definitely really fucking upset. And I punched a wall, so I guess, yeah, I was angry.”

Sonya hums and says, “Yeah, I noticed you rated higher on the self harm question than usual. Any other relapses?”

“No,” Ben says. “I thought about it, a lot more than I wanted to, but I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s good. That shows you’ve learned some better coping skills,” Sonya says.

Ben grimaces and grumbles, “Mostly I just cried.”

Sonya chuckles and says, “That’s a perfectly valid expression of emotion.”

\---

They’re laying in Armitage’s bed for the first time since Ben forgot his meds. It’s nice. They’re in just their underwear, curled around each other under the covers, Ben’s nose against the nape of Armitage’s neck. He wants to bring up what would happen if Armitage’s dad _did_ disown him like Sonya suggested last week, but he’s afraid. Of what, he’s not sure, but his brain is convinced something bad would happen if he brought it up, so he doesn’t.

Instead, he snakes a hand down to touch Armitage’s dick. Armitage hums and presses back against Ben’s chest, half asleep.

“Is this okay?” Ben asks, remembering what a disaster the last time they were in this position was.

“Of course,” Armitage says. He hums again, pleased, as Ben dips his hand into Armitage's underwear, wrapping his fingers around Armitage's dick. It's a little awkward; his dominant hand is still fucked up so it's tucked safely under their heads. He's clumsy with his off hand, but Armitage still reacts positively, hardening in Ben’s fist.

Armitage sighs happily before asking, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Ben’s dick jumps at the thought but he hesitates.

“I don't know if I could manage with my hand fucked up.”

Armitage shrugs and rolls his hips, fucking into Ben’s hand and rubbing back against Ben's dick all in the same motion.

“I could ride you,” he says. “Do all the work.”

“Maybe,” Ben says. He kisses the nape of Armitage's neck and asks, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Armitage laughs softly and says, “Of course. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, ride me.”

Armitage turns under Ben’s arm to kiss him hard, coaxing his mouth open. Ben kisses back almost desperately. He missed Armitage so much; he still hasn't fully recovered from how fucked the last few weeks have been. He's managing but it's been hard.

This might be what he needs: a reminder of how much Armitage cares for him, of how much they care for each other, physical and tangible and _real_. It couldn't really hurt; he already hit bottom. All he can do is climb out of this hole.

Armitage nudges Ben onto his back. He's smirking, looking like he's ready to devour Ben. It sends a thrill down Ben's spine, making his dick throb. Ben swallows hard. Anticipation fills his gut. He's not sure if it's good or bad yet. All he can do is open the ‘chute and hope for the best.

Ben touches Armitage's cheek with his good hand. Armitage leans into the touch, eyes closing briefly before he pulls away to grab the lube.

“Do you want a condom?” Armitage asks.

“Oh, uh,” Ben says intelligently. “I mean, I’m for sure clean so.”

“I know,” Armitage says. “I just thought it might be helpful with your piercing.”

Ben pauses, thinking about it, then says, “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

Armitage laughs softly and pulls a condom from the strip. He comes back to Ben, setting their supplies by Ben’s hip, then shimmies out of his underwear. Ben does the same, kicking his boxers and the covers down to reveal his hard on. Armitage puts a hand on him, stroking him from root to tip, thumb sliding over his PA. 

“You're absolutely gorgeous, love,” Armitage says, looking Ben over with that predatory smirk. “I’m so happy you're here.”

He looks Ben in the eye, his smirk softening as he says, “I love you.”

Ben can't help but smile back, replying in kind. Armitage takes a deep breath and lets it out as a satisfied sigh, gaze dropping. He straddles Ben's thighs, their cocks brushing. Armitage rolls the condom down Ben's length then slicks him up before scooting forward. He angles Ben's dick just so and slowly, slowly, presses down on him. Ben sighs and places his hands on Armitage's thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles into his soft skin.

It takes perfect eons for him to bottom out, pressed so deep into Armitage he must be nestled right next to his heart. Armitage sighs again, eyes closed, a small smile tilting his lips. Ben bumps his hips up after a moment, bouncing Armitage a little in his lap. Armitage laughs and says, “Patience, love.”

“I've never been good at that,” Ben replies, grinning. Armitage just smiles down at him. Ben’s heart soars; this was exactly what he needed. Armitage _loves_ him and it shows. He looks at Ben like Ben is something precious, something to be taken care of and kept safe.

Armitage leans over him, rolling his hips. He kisses Ben softly on the lips before he starts riding Ben in ernest. Ben meets him halfway, arching up to fuck into him, burying himself deep. Armitage looks so pretty like this, face flushed, lips parted, eyes closed. His eyelashes are so long, orange lines casting spider web shadows in the half light.

Ben pulls Armitage down against him harder, hands on Armitage's hips, then hisses as his hand protests. Armitage laughs at him as he knocks Ben's hands away, pinning them to the bed next to Ben's head.

“Careful, love,” Armitage says, smirking. His fingers are tight around Ben's wrists, firm and unyielding. Ben just stares in awe at his boyfriend and the power he has over him. Ben’s cock throbs, making Armitage suck in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed.

Armitage may have power over Ben, but Ben has the same power over him, the way it should be.

Armitage keeps Ben’s hands where they are, leaned over Ben as he rides him. He keeps his pace leisurely, rocking in Ben’s lap until they're both breathing hard.

“Please,” Ben whispers.

“Please what?” Armitage asks, eyes soft and hazy even as he smirks.

“Make me come,” Ben says. “ _Please_.”

“Keep your hands here,” Armitage says, squeezing Ben’s wrists. Ben nods, lungs tight. Armitage smiles and adds, “Good, perfect,” before sitting back and fucking himself on Ben harder, rising up farther to slam home. Ben gasps and groans, fingers flexing. He wants to hold on to something , onto Armitage, but he _can't_. He still desperately wants to please Armitage, even after all these months. He can do this, can follow this one simple order.

“Fuck,” Armitage gasps. Ben whimpers. He's so close.

Armitage wraps his fingers around himself, stroking himself quick and hard, like he's close too, and that's what sets Ben off. He comes with a groan, tilting his head back into the pillows. He feels Armitage run his fingertips down his throat as his hips still, Ben buried deep in him. Armitage's hand flies over his cock, making wet sounds in time with Armitage's moans. Armitage clenches around Ben’s cock and Ben looks down just in time to see Armitage stripe his stomach with come.

Armitage heaves a sigh when he's done, fingers still wrapped around his dick. He looks down at Ben with a sweet smile and says, “I missed you.”

Ben laughs and teases, “You only want me for my dick.”

“It is a phenomenal dick,” Armitage replies, raising up off it a final time. “Do you have any idea how spectacular your piercing feels?”

“You like it?”

“Love it,” Armitage says, flopping out next to Ben. “Love _you_.”

Ben lifts his arm and Armitage immediately cuddles against his side as Ben says, “Love you too.”

\---

It’s always stressful when Armitage’s father calls him to his house for dinner. He always feels like he’s headed to his execution, never knowing if now is when his father has had enough.

Brendol calls Armitage to his office immediately and Armitage just _knows_ this is it. He stands at parade rest in front of his father’s massive wood desk, hands clasped behind his back, staring past his father’s shoulder at some vague point in the distance.

“Ben Organa,” Brendol starts, drawling Ben’s name like it’s dirt in his mouth. Armitage can’t help but stiffen, clenching his teeth around his tongue. “I take it you’re… familiar with him.”

Armitage swallows thickly. He should deny knowing Ben, pretend he knows nothing about him, pretend he hasn’t spent the better part of the last year falling maddenly in love with him.

He hesitates a beat too long. His father sighs and says, “I’m not angry, Armitage. I’m disappointed. I thought you were better than this. You’re too old to be involving yourself with such a degenerate. And you know very well that I cannot have your… deviancies undercutting my work.” Business-like, he slides open one of the drawers in his desk, pulling out a manilla envelope. He says, “Here’s the title of your car, signed over into your name, and a check that should cover your rent until your lease is up, if you’re not careless.”

Brendol holds up the envelope, giving it a little shake to knock Armitage out of his paralysis. Armitage isn’t even aware of stepping forward, of walking up to the desk to take it. He feels like he’s two steps to the left of his body, watching as he goes through the motions needed to complete this interaction.

His father levels him with a long, heavy stare before flicking his hand and looking away, saying, “Alright, dismissed.”

Armitage leaves. He shuts the door to his father’s office gently behind him, fingers wrinkling the crisp edges of the envelope he clutches in one hand. He walks down the hall to the foyer, then out the front door, down the steps to his car.

He doesn’t look back.

\---

Armitage is surprised to find himself outside the Organa home. He’s even more surprised that he leaves his car and walks up through the front garden to the door, knocking with a shaking hand. Ben’s mother answers the door a moment later and takes one look at him before going, “Armitage, honey, what’s wrong?”

His lip quivers and the words stick in his throat. He only manages to make a miserable sound as his eyes positively burn. She ushers him into the house and shouts for Ben.

Ben thunders up the stairs, calling, “What?” before he catches sight of Armitage and goes, “ _Fuck_ , Tidge, what happened?”

He can’t manage to say the words. _Saying_ them would make it _real_. Ben wraps him up in a hug, warm and solid and _his_ , one hand around his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Armitage clutches at him, sniffling. He absolutely refuses to cry. He should have seen this coming.

“Your dad found out, huh?” Ben asks, voice soft. Armitage just nods. Ben squeezes him tighter briefly before saying, “That fucking sucks.”

“What do I do?” Armitage asks, voice thin. He sniffles and rubs at his eyes over Ben’s shoulder, hating how he's reacting.

“I don’t know,” Ben says. “What happened?”

“Let the poor boy sit, Ben,” his mother scolds. “Have you eaten yet, honey?” She sounds so _nice_ , fake to his ear, too used to sharp commands, but if she's anything like Ben, it's sincere.

“No,” Armitage says, sounding miserable with this too.

“Let’s get you fed, then we can make a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> id say i feel bad for putting u all thru that emotional roller coaster but im really _not_. this has been my plan since i first came up with this fic idea  >:3 epilogue will be up ssssssoonish. in less than two weeks, but i havent fully decided on _when_ exactly so itll be a surprise
> 
> also with tumblr imploding under the new nsfw ban, plz be aware that i am going to be deleting my tumblr on december 17th. you can find me instead on [twitter here](https://twitter.com/bubblegumspook) (plz note that im _not_ sumomomochi there) and also [pillowfort here](https://www.pillowfort.io/sumomomochi). i might also be putting together a discord channel for peeps who wanna interact with me i am just unsure if i have the spoons to deal with a void who shouts back so WHO KNOWS ill throw up the relevant info if i do that w the epilogue
> 
> also if u havent heard im almost done w my holiday fic that i started in fuckin may so prepare ur asses 4 sum crimebus fic here in a couple weeks!!!!!!!! subscribe to get notified when it goes up, or follow me on the twitter or smth


	6. this impossible year

The Organa-Solos are pure chaos. Their big table is filled with plates, constantly in motion as people pass them in both directions, talking over and around each other, laughter filling the gaps. They’re all wearing special little hats, the name of which has already fled Armitage’s mind. He wasn’t aware that Ben and his family are Jewish. He wasn’t aware that Friday is their Sabbath.

He has no idea what he’s doing intruding on their family dinner. Ben sits at his side, bickering with his cousin over whose job it was to bring the butter to the table, neither one of them getting up to actually _bring the butter over_. Ben’s father is discussing something with his business partner, an extremely large, extremely hairy man with an extremely thick accent introduced as _Uncle Chewie_ , which cannot, in any shape or form, actually be his real name. 

Ben’s mom joins the argument over the butter dish, telling Ben to just go get it— “But I’m older! I got it last time!”

The only other person quiet at the table is Ben’s other uncle, sitting serenely amidst the chaos Armitage is lost in. He catches Armitage’s eye and winks, smiling a more sedate version of Organa’s knowing smirk. 

Armitage decides to throw himself headlong into the chaos, asking, “Where’s the butter dish?”

Four voices say a mishmash of words, telling Armitage it’s over in the breakfast nook. Armitage stands and Leia says, “Oh, no, honey, you’re our guest,” as Armitage marches over to the breakfast nook, retrieves the butter dish, and sits back down in his spot at the table. His face is a little hot, an embarrassed flush not hidden by his scowl.

“There,” he says shortly. Ben looks at him, grinning. Ben’s whole family is looking at him, the table nearly silent.

Ben’s cousin starts laughing first, little snickers under her breath, then Ben snorts and covers half his face with one hand, still smiling. Leia sighs and rolls her eyes. The slightly less hairy uncle’s eyes twinkle while the other one says something Armitage doesn’t quite catch that makes Ben’s dad laugh too.

“Welcome to the family, kid,” Ben’s dad says, grinning the same grin Ben has.

\---

The second time Armitage has Friday night dinner with the Organa-Solos, he’s prepared. He retrieves the butter dish from the breakfast nook right off the bat, settling into his place by Ben’s side. Ben grins at him and his hand sits on Armitage’s thigh, warm and reassuring as he lets the tidal force of their conversations wash over him.

Halfway through, Leia asks him, “How is school going? You’re graduating soon, right?”

“Yeah, at the end of this semester,” Armitage says. His grades have slipped a little from the stress he’s been under since his father effectively disowned him, but since he’s no longer forced to adhere to his father’s standards, he doesn’t have to maintain a four-point-oh GPA. Three-point-eight is fully serviceable he keeps telling himself.

“Have you given any thought to what you want to do after you graduate?” Leia prompts.

“I think we should get a place together,” Ben blurts to his entire family. Armitage stares at him. Rey laughs and slaps Ben across the shoulder.

“That’s great, kid!” Ben’s dad says.

Armitage feels that now familiar vice around his ribs at how _proud_ Han sounds, even as he says to Ben, “I still need to find a job.”

“Your lease will be up in July whether you have a job or not,” Ben says, shrugging, eyes on his plate. His big ears are red where they stick out of his hair. “Might as well make a plan now.”

He has a point. Armitage just can’t wrap his head around Ben wanting to actually _live_ with _him_. Armitage can’t imagine _anyone_ wanting to live with him, can’t imagine living with anyone else at all, but he finds himself enamoured with the idea of it, of waking up every morning to see Ben there with him.

“I wanna move closer to the city anyway, like where you’re at right now,” Ben says. “That way my commute to work isn’t as long.”

“Yeah, okay,” Armitage says, already thinking of a little flat crammed with all their collective things.

\---

Armitage can’t decide on if this heavy dread he feels deep in his gut is because he’s afraid his father will show up to his graduation or if it’s because he’s afraid he _won’t_. He walks down the aisle in his gown, takes his fake diploma, and disperses with the rest of his graduating class, eyes peeled for any glimpse of his father.

Ben finds him first, his family trailing behind. He grabs Armitage by the face and pulls him in for an excited kiss, a hard press of lips against lips. He’s grinning when he pulls away.

“Mazel tov! Congratulations!” Leia says, smiling wide while Ben wraps his arms around Armitage’s waist and pulls him into a tight hug.

Han slaps Armitage across the back and says, “Good job, kid.”

“I’m so proud of you, Tidge,” Ben murmurs in his ear. Armitage squeezes Ben back, a little terrified at how easily his and his family’s affection comes.

\---

Phasma and Mitaka look a little out of place in Ben’s parent’s house, milling about in the small graduation party Leia throws for Armitage. Leia drags all three of them around, introducing them to various colleagues and staff of hers. They get introduced to some of Ben’s coworkers too, the black boy who’s holding hands with Rey and the chubby Asian girl offering their congratulations too.

There’s cake and champagne and Ben keeps pulling him close to kiss him, tasting of frosting each time.

\---

There are two moving trucks in the drive to the house that they’re moving into, one for Ben’s things and one for Armitage’s. Armitage still can’t fucking believe they’re doing it, that Leia co-signed their lease so they could move in.

It’s a big house, with four bedrooms and two living rooms and a back garden lined with trees. Ben sent Armitage the listing for it last month even though it’s out of their budget and Armitage absolutely fell in love, so Ben made it happen. Phasma will be moving in to the master suite once her lease is up at the end of August and Rey will be taking the bedroom in the basement once she starts college in September. Armitage suspects Finn with move in with them too at some point. 

That leaves the two other rooms on the main floor, one for each Ben and Armitage. They had decided to keep separate bedrooms for now, giving them space to be alone if they need it. It was Ben’s idea, but it soothed a lot of Armitage’s anxieties about moving in together.

He should feel more worried that he’s going to be living with so many people. He’s lived alone for eight years, and before that it was just him and his father. Phasma and Ben shouldn’t be much of a problem; they’re both more on the reserved side, but Rey is bubbly and outgoing. Armitage doesn’t know how he’ll deal with that.

He finds himself looking forward to finding out though. The more time he spends around Ben’s family, the happier he finds himself. They’ve welcomed him as part of the family and that makes Armitage _happy_.

All of them are clustered by the open ends of the trucks, Han shielding his eyes from the bright summer sun with one hand. He asks, “How do you want to do this?”

\---

Leia had assured Armitage that he doesn’t have to be in a rush to find a job. She said she was willing to help with their rent for as long as they needed it, but Armitage is so tired of having things paid for him. He wants to stand on his own two feet and go forward under his own power.

They get their internet set up the day after they move into the house and Armitage spends the entire time Ben is at work sending out his CV.

\---

“Ouch, fuck,” Ben bitches from the landing with the front door.

“You alright, love?” Armitage calls back from his spot on the couch. He can’t quite see what Ben is doing. All he knows is that it involves a narrow plaque, a hammer, and quite a bit of muttering.

“Fine,” Ben says. “Just missed the fucking nail and got my finger.”

“Oh no, you poor thing,” Armitage teases. “Do you need me to kiss it better?”

Ben says, “Yes,” seriously and Armitage laughs.

“Well, come here then,” he says.

Ben taps the hammer against the nail carefully as he says, “Soon. I still have mine and Rey’s to do.”

“What are you even doing?” Armitage asks, climbing off the couch so he can watch Ben over the railing above the landing.

“Jew things,” Ben replies, not looking up. He steps back to survey his work, eyebrows pulled together.

“Thank you very much for clarifying.”

Ben does look up at that, laughing. His grin is infectious.

“It’s a mezuzah,” Ben says. “It’s a sort of concrete commitment to have a good Jewish household. You put them on doors so when you pass through them, you remember your commitment to God.”

“I see. I did not expect you to be quite so religious.”

Ben shrugs and says, “I don’t know how to not be. It’s how I was raised.”

“You look at how your religion persecutes people like you and go, 'fuck that',” Armitage says, amused at their differences.

“Yeah, well, Christians tend to be assholes.”

Armitage cackles and says, “Finish with what you're doing quickly so I can kiss you. We won’t have the house to ourselves for long so we better make the most of it.”

Ben lights up and salutes, saying, “Yes sir.”

He hits his fingers with the hammer twice more, finishing his swearing before speaking some words in what must be Hebrew. Armitage takes his time kissing them gently as they grind together on the couch once he’s done.

\---

They’re cuddling in Ben’s bed, the room lit with his string lights and the last of the dying sunlight. He’s been chewing over this thing he wants to suggest to Armitage all week, since he saw Sonya last. Phasma is set to move in with them in the morning, so this is the last time they’ll be truly alone for a good long while, so Ben feels like he should bring it up now.

“So um,” he starts, playing with a bit of Armitage’s hair. “I think it might help you to talk to a therapist about things with your dad.”

There, he said it. Even though it sounded kind of rehearsed, which it was, he said it.

“How so?” Armitage asks, “It happened, it’s in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

This is the response Ben was worried about. Armitage is such an asshole sometimes, too stubborn and proud for his own good. He’s still relaxed against Ben’s side though, gently petting Ben’s ribs.

“Having a therapist has really helped me wrap my head around, around _things_. I kinda get the impression you have a lot of pent up feelings about how your dad is basically a supreme shitlord and I want to help, but every time I think about how your dad just, just bailed on you, I want to punch him, so. So therapist.”

Armitage laughs softly, turning his head to kiss Ben’s shoulder. He says, “It doesn’t matter. My father doesn’t matter, not when I have you.”

Ben tucks his face into Armitage’s hair to hide how he flushes, grinning like an idiot. He rolls to wrap around Armitage like an octopus, pulling them flush together, chest to chest.

“I love you,” he tells Armitage, kissing his forehead.

“I love you too,” Armitage laughs, content to let Ben manhandle him.

\---

Rey, of all people, is the one to teach Armitage how to cook. She has quite the knack for being able to make a recipe after looking at it once and she’s patient, more than happy to walk Armitage through things a couple of times until he’s able to replicate his results without help. By October, he can reliably make half a dozen different somewhat labour intensive dishes.

Phasma’s take on cooking is to stick meat in a crock pot with some sort of sauce and let it cook all day. Armitage’s paltry attempts at cooking require so much more effort than hers, but he finds it satisfying to chop vegetables and add this and that to his simmering pots.

Ben usually brings food from his parent’s house when it’s his turn to supply dinner, platters of salmon over wild rice or eggplant parmesan. Armitage learns that, while Leia cooks dinner on Fridays, most of the rest of their meals come from a personal chef, delivering premade food twice a week. Armitage wonders why he didn’t think to look into something like that for himself back when he lived alone instead of living off take away and wine.

Armitage doesn’t even know Ben can even cook until he walks in on him after Armitage gets home from work, standing over the stove, spatula in hand, not long after Thanksgiving.

“What are you making?” Armitage asks, leaning against the wall leading into the kitchen.

“Latkes,” Ben says, looking up at him. “Take off your coat and come kiss me, you ass.”

Armitage laughs but does as he’s bid, draping his peacoat over the railing between the stairs and the upstairs living room. Ben’s flipping what look to be extremely crispy pancakes of some sort, frying in oil, when he comes back to the kitchen. Next to him are a handful of the pancakes finished, draining on a paper towel. Armitage kisses the back of Ben’s shoulder, hand on his hip.

“You can have one,” Ben says, pointing to the plate with the spatula. Armitage takes one and bites into it as Ben moves the ones in the pan to the plate as well.

It’s not what Armitage expected, distinctly fried potato, but it’s good, even if it’s still a little mushy in the center. Ben forms out another couple of pancakes out of the paste in the bowl at his side. The oil pops and hisses as he sets the pancakes in the pan, then he turns to face Armitage.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Of course, Armitage has just taken another bite, so he just mumbles, “‘S goo’,” around his mouthful, making Ben grin.

“Thanks,” he says. “My mom’s are better but they’re not bad for my first go at making them all by myself.” He kisses Armitage on the tip of the nose, laughing at the face Armitage makes, before adding, “My store’s holiday party is coming up. I wanted to make sure I could make latkes before I committed to bringing them. Thanks for being my guinea pig.”

“You’re quite welcome. After all, I subject you to my own dubious cooking once a week. It’s only fair.”

Ben laughs some more and pecks Armitage on the lips.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he says, turning back to the stove. “You’re getting better at it though.”

Ben flips this batch of latke. Armitage snags another, biting into it. They _are_ good.

“So um,” Ben starts. “What constitutes a year for us? When we first started having sex or when we first agreed to start dating?”

Armitage can tell that Ben has been thinking about this for awhile. He doesn’t look at Armitage while he asks, busying himself with what he’s doing. Armitage chews slowly, thinking Ben’s question over.

“I think when we agreed to date,” he says finally, then smiles, adding, “otherwise we would have already missed that first year mark.”

Ben looks over his shoulder, beaming, and says, “Yeah. I like the idea of ending the year with an anniversary anyway.”

\---

Ben surprises Armitage on the chosen day of their one year anniversary with breakfast in bed. Even though they both have Saturdays off, Armitage is still usually awake well before Ben, so the fact that Ben got up early enough to cook and wake Armitage up is impressive. Armitage absolutely loves it, waking up to Ben’s gentle kiss and a plate of french toast.

“You sweet thing,” Armitage says, struggling to sit up. Ben waits until he’s vertical to hand him one of the plates he’s holding before climbing over Armitage’s knees to sit on the bed next to him with his own.

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Ben says, focused on his plate. “A year is a big deal.”

Armitage brushes his knuckles against Ben’s shoulder and says, “Everything you do for me is nice. You’re a sweetheart, love, and I adore you.”

Ben smiles at him.

“Love you too.”

\---

“So what brings you in, Mister Hux?”

Armitage makes a face and says, “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Armitage then?”

“Yeah.”

The doctor smiles and asks again, “What brings you in?”

“My boyfriend thinks my father’s homophobia has caused issues in my own thinking.”

“Do you agree?”

Armitage takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact, and says, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand theres the end of it!!! thank u all for reading and commenting and shit ilu all. ill be posting my crimebux fic nnnnnext weekend shit that snuck up on me whops. subscribe to me here on ao3 or follow me on [the twitter](https://twitter.com/bubblegumspook) or smth so u kno when that goes up for all ur holiday porn needs

**Author's Note:**

> if u liked this fic, plz reblog [this post](http://sumomomochi.tumblr.com/post/178979375601/how-much-love-would-make-you-whole-sumomomochi) on tumblr to spread the word


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